Part Heaven
by Merlin Missy
Summary: The initial meetings of JeanLuc Picard, Bevery Howard, Jack Crusher and Walker Keel.


Part Heaven  
The White Chronicle  
A Star Trek: The Next Generation story  
by Merlin Missy

Copyright 1995, 2001

Welcome back to My Personal Universe. As always, this story  
reflects canon to the best of my ability, but if future events  
unfold to change that, well, deal with it. Also, this story has no  
plot. Think of it, if you must, as a series of scenes from four  
interlocking lives whose mutual dependence forms a bright corner in  
a growing tapestry of tales. All I can do is promise that it will  
eventually make sense.

Great thanks go out to San, for editing this puppy more  
than once and for just plain being Sandra, to Amy, who told me in  
the most polite terms possible that diarrhea of the word processor  
is not necessarily a good thing, and to Christine for putting up  
with my continuous requests to help me post this and that. Also, many many  
thanks to the kids in the sandbox for reasons I cannot begin to  
explain, other than to tell them that this has been one hell of a  
ride thus far.

Remember, GMTA.

All good things herein are the property of Paramount. All else  
belongs to me (except Dorian, whom Amy graciously let me borrow so  
long as I promised to dust him off and return him when finished).  
You can pass this along, even print out a copy or two for your  
friends, but keep this header intact and if you have any ideas  
about 'zining it, ask first.

VVVVV  
Prologue

The child's father watched her as she created yet another  
crown of dandelions. She had long ago, which in her reckoning  
meant sometime the week before, determined that the color was the  
perfect shade of gold, even if it did wither too soon. The father  
saw her often as a golden thing, a bright yellow creature to remind  
him of what Springtime had been and could be.

The child set the golden crown upon her father's head.

"King Daddy!" she exclaimed, and laughed like a golden bell.

He smiled indulgently, reminding himself that it was her  
fourth birthday, and that she was permitted to act silly if she  
chose.

"Thank you dearest. Now I have something for you."

The child's eyes lit up, no doubt imagining more toys hidden  
in some secret part of the house which she had not yet discovered.  
She was spoiled, he knew, more out of circumstance than intention,  
but spoiled nonetheless. She was young, though. He still had time  
to set her right. He had all the time in the universe.

"What is it? Is it a spaceship?"

"No, not a spaceship." She'd been asking for a model ship for  
some time, and he had only barely deflected the child's grandmother  
giving one to her. It wasn't that he thought she shouldn't have  
one, for she was big enough to neither lose nor attempt to digest  
the pieces. He was more concerned about her receiving the toy and  
making it work for real.

For perhaps the billionth time, he wondered if things would  
have been that much more boring had he a less ... interesting  
child.

"Close your eyes." She did. "Now come with me." He took her  
tiny hand in his large one and led her to the side of the house.  
"Now open them." Her eyelids shot up, ready to jump on the  
surprise. Then she faltered, looking disappointed.

"Uh, Daddy?"

"It's an easel. You use it to hold pictures while you paint  
or draw them." He showed her the four-year-old-size paints in the  
stand beside it. "This is a way for you to get all those ideas of  
yours out of your head." And hopefully stay out of trouble while  
you do, he added silently. "You take a blank piece of paper or  
canvas and put colors to it, and you can create anything."

"But I can't draw very good." She began to slide back, no  
doubt to go play with one of the new games she had just received.

"You don't have to be able to draw well. All you have to do  
is put your brush against it and paint what you feel." Seeing the  
unbelieving look on her face, he added, "You don't have to do it  
now, but you may want to later, when things in your life become  
stranger than words can tell, or when you want to remember  
something for always that you might not have a picture of."

"Like Mommy?"

"Yes. Like Mommy."

She gave a theatric sigh. "Okay, I'll play with it. But I  
don't have to like it."

"You might be surprised. Sometimes you find the oddest things  
when you're not looking for them." She gave him her "Daddy's  
Acting Weird Again" look until he grinned.

The child approached the easel like a deadly virus, and picked  
up the brush as if it would bite her.

"What should I paint?"

"Anything you want. And when you finish, you can paint  
another if you choose, and another, and another. You can paint the  
same picture again and again till you get it just right, or you can  
do a hundred different pictures. But you'd best start with one for  
now."

Still uncertain, she dipped her brush into a color at random.  
He watched her turn back to the paper and brush a first, gentle  
kiss across its empty white face.

VVVVV  
Chapter 1: Vaguely Familiar

The Andorian started it. He'd been making loud, obnoxious  
comments all evening, ranging from extolling the attributes of the  
admittedly well-endowed waitress in the bar to maligning the  
stupidity of his government for not being more concerned with the  
way the humans were ruining the Federation. Still, everyone was a  
bit tipsy, and no one would have stopped him in his growing tirade  
for the rest of the night. If only he hadn't insulted the Captain.

The Lieutenant was a loyal member of the crew, but that would  
probably not quite have been enough to set it all rolling. He  
hadn't always been the forgiving sort, but experience had taught  
him that picking fights in strange bars was not the best idea when  
trying to make friends and influence people. However, since they  
had met, the Lieutenant had become a personal friend of the  
Captain, and that was something to be remarked upon, for neither  
were the type to build close friendships. He owed his Captain many  
things, and the Andorian owed the Captain an apology. He indicated  
as much.

As he said the words, he noticed that, all of a sudden, there  
were far fewer members of his crew there than he had counted just  
minutes ago. Even before the Andorian threw the first punch, he  
mentally counted three more slip out the door. So they weren't  
going to stand by, were they? Fine. He'd give the Andorian  
something to think about if he had to do it alone.

Ten minutes later, with more bruises than he could easily  
count, he wondered why he'd never learned to keep his mouth shut.  
He ducked a blow from some human he didn't know, then managed to  
kick the man's feet out from beneath him. The bar was in a  
shambles, with representatives of various species happily  
attempting to dash one another's brains out with any and all  
available stationary objects. He noticed another Starfleet officer  
suddenly at his side, and without words, they fended off various  
assailants back to back. It was a glorious mess.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, just as he managed to  
throw a swarthy-looking Orion to the floor. He turned his head to  
ask what the problem was, when a fist connected with his jaw and  
the world momentarily went black.

He felt himself being grabbed under the arms and bodily  
dragged out of the bar. He twisted against his captor, but whoever  
it was had him securely. Once outside in the dark, he found  
himself dumped unceremoniously beside the officer who'd fought at  
his back. They slowly, and somewhat painfully, turned to face the  
man who'd dragged them both out of the fight. He was wearing a  
Starfleet uniform. He did not look happy.

"I have never seen such a shameful display of stupidity on  
the part of anyone wearing that uniform before today." He was  
definitely not happy. "I'd expect this kind of behaviour from  
cadets, but you! You're both lieutenants, for the sake of Kolker!  
You should be setting a better example for younger officers,  
instead of causing barfights among a group of drunken pirates." He  
must have seen the startled looks on their faces. "That's right.  
Pirates. Which you would have noticed had you been watching  
anything other than the waitress's cleavage! They would have  
killed you just as well as looked at you."

An alarm sounded in the distance. The man looked in the  
direction from which it was coming. "The authorities will be here  
in a minute. Hurry up, unless you want to explain to your Captain  
why you need to be bailed out of jail at this time of night."

The lieutenant got to his feet, then helped the other  
lieutenant stand. They both swayed for a moment, then the  
lieutenant shook his head to clear the spinning. His tolerance was  
not what it used to be. As they attempted to walk casually down  
the street, he wondered if that wasn't, if fact, a good thing?

After the three of them had walked for several minutes in  
silence, the lieutenant felt obligated to explain. "The Andorian  
was ridiculing the Captain. He had to apologize. The Captain's  
honour was at stake."

"Your Captain is perfectly capable of defending his or her own  
honour, I'm quite certain. Getting into a fight over it puts the  
discipline on your ship into a bad light."

Something in the man's words reached into the murky depths of  
his mind and came up wanting. "You're not from my ship."

"Not unless you've been hiding aboard the _Acland_. Our crew  
compliment is only one hundred twelve, and I know everyone."

He nodded. The _Acland_ had been in orbit along with his own  
ship for the brief shore leave aboard the frontier outpost. Some  
shore leave.

The other fellow looked at them groggily. He seemed about to  
fall over.

"We'd better stop now. I don't think he can make it much  
further." The officer from the _Acland_ frowned, then indicated  
the ground. He remained standing as the two former brawlers sank  
gratefully to the hard stone.

"You should both be ashamed of yourselves."

He looked up at the imposing figure, and said in his meekest  
voice, "Yessir."

"Don't call me that, Lieutenant." His eyes settled on the  
man's insignia for the first time, then opened wide.

"All right, Ensign." The ensign's mouth twisted, but he made  
no other movement. His near-slumbering friend, however, suddenly  
perked up.

"You're an ensign?" The other lieutenant threw back his  
head and laughed. "It figures. Well, now I've seen it all. Two  
lieutenants given a stern dressing down for public drunkenness by  
a wet-behind-the ears ensign." He was laughing so hard that he  
clutched his stomach.

The lieutenant watched, concerned that the man might well go  
into convulsions given his current condition. The ensign from the  
_Acland_ was not amused.

"If that's what it takes ... "

"Yes, Sir! Ensign, Sir!" The other man began laughing again.

The lieutenant couldn't help it; he started laughing, too, as  
the ensign watched silently.

"Shameful display!"

"Set an example for younger officers!"

When their howls died away, the younger man remained watching  
them, an almost pitying look on his face. "When the two of you are  
finally sober, you are going to have dreadful hangovers. Sirs."  
He turned on his heel and began walking down the street.

The lieutenant was suddenly very ashamed of himself.  
Captain's honor or not, he really had just been looking for an  
excuse to fight with that damned Andorian. And he was very  
drunk, and besides, the Captain would be ashamed of him, too.

"Wait!" he said, stumbling to his feet. The man kept moving,  
and he feared that he would just move on into the gathering fog.  
A strange feeling swept through him, perhaps just the alcohol but  
perhaps something more, that said he did not want that to happen.  
"Please."

The ensign stopped, then turned around. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"I'd like to apologize," he managed to get out. Funny, how he  
had wanted the Andorian to say something that he himself could only  
barely mumble. "You're right. We ... I acted shamefully. That  
Andorian made me angry. But I should not have taken it out on  
you." He waited, wondering, fearing.

"Apology accepted." The ensign held out his hand. Somewhat  
surprised, he took it and shook as firmly as he could. They both  
smiled.

The lieutenant turned to the other man, saying, "Now don't you  
want to apologize, as well?"

The other one made a noise. It sounded distinctly like  
snoring. The lieutenant stifled a laugh while the ensign rolled  
his eyes. "Apology accepted from you, too."

"You know, he really shouldn't beam back home like that. Come  
to think of it, I don't even know which ship he's from."

"Think we should walk him out of it?"

He nodded. They grabbed the drunken man, each to an arm, then  
began walking. After a few steps, he came to, tilted his head to  
one side, and looked at the lieutenant. "Hi, Sailor. Come here  
often?" He turned towards the ensign, who was no doubt wondering  
why he hadn't slipped out of the bar with everyone else. "So,  
Ensign ... Ensign. Ensign, what the hell is your name, anyway?"

"Jack." He was looking more exasperated by the minute.

"Ensign Jack, where do you call home?"

"Ensign Crusher."

"Never heard of that system."

"No, I'm Ensign Crusher."

"Then who's Ensign Jack?"

Ensign Whoever-he-was sighed very deeply. "Can we leave him  
here?"

"Yes, but we'd have to pick him up again."

"Oh good. I'm getting picked up by two sailors! What would  
Dorian think?" He looked perplexed.

"I don't know," said Jack.

The lieutenant felt the giggles starting again, and couldn't  
hold them back this time. He felt an irrational urge to shout  
"Third base!" but managed to suppress it. As the effects of the  
alcohol wore off, he found himself being slowly filled with a  
different feeling, one he hadn't had in an incredibly long time.  
He was feeling very, very silly.

Time passed. Soon, the other lieutenant could stagger on his  
own. The night was warm, and they continued their walk, attempting  
to get sober enough to beam back with some dignity.

"I'm from Starfleet," said Jack, after a particularly long  
silence.

"Hmm?"

"You asked where I was from. I'm from Starfleet."

"I may be drunk, but I picked up on that." He pointed at  
the uniform.

"That's not what I meant. My parents were both in Starfleet.  
When they died, I lived with my grandparents, who were also in  
Starfleet. We had a place on Earth, but we were almost never  
there." He turned to the lieutenant. "Where do you call home? I  
can't for the life of me place the accent."

"Earth. France." Funny, he had almost said that he was from  
the _Stargazer_. Was it home already? He certainly hadn't been to  
Labarre in ages.

"Never been there. I hear it's nice."

He shrugged. "It's home."

"San Diego," the other lieutenant said suddenly. "I'm from  
San Diego. When I was a kid, we used to go up to San Fran for the  
day all the time. The Trolls would gawk at the mids. Never  
thought I'd be one of them one day."

"Trolls?"

"My sisters. Both older. You get the idea."

"I guess. I was an only child."

The lieutenant looked away for a moment, old memories  
resurfacing. "One brother. No sisters."

"Perfect! You can each have one, then I will be rid of them  
both!" He laughed, as if he were joking. Almost.

They talked like that through most of the alien night, which  
was nearly as long as the winter solstice back in his home village.  
The other lieutenant, whose name was Walker something, regaled them  
with a long list of elephant jokes.

Jack told them about some of the places he'd seen as a boy,  
including the Klingon homeworld. His grandparents had been part of  
a diplomatic mission, although they were only noncoms, because they  
were fluent in both Klingon and Romulan.

The lieutenant told the other two a story about how he, Greg  
Quinn and Bob DeSoto had managed to rewire the ship's computers to  
display a birthday cake on every terminal in honor of the captain's  
50th. He added a description of the animated belly-dancer who  
jumped out of the simulated cakes. That had been Bob's idea, a  
little going-away present before he left the ship for greener  
pastures. Walker had laughed, but Jack had only rolled his eyes.

They sang old Academy songs for part of the night, songs best  
shared with friends before a cold ale or after a hard battle, songs  
of camaraderie, loyalty, and at Walker's insistence, sex. This  
ended at the insistence of several irate colonists who for some  
reason had actually been sleeping. Although he considered himself  
no judge of sung music, his own tastes leaning more towards  
instrumental pieces, he was fairly certain that the three of them  
were better than the colonists had said. Well, shouted.

The sky had been growing paler for some time, and they found  
themselves near the edge of the outpost. In silence, they watched  
as the distant red sun rose to cast its feeble light on the colony,  
dispelling few of the shadows, but bringing daylight nonetheless.  
Together, they saw the final stars wink out to grant the wishes  
made on them during the dark night past. It was time to go home.

They said their brief good-byes in the transporter station.  
No one promised to write or keep in touch. In fact, the lieutenant  
was certain that he would never see either of them again, other  
than perhaps at some awful function when they were all old  
Admirals. He could even see in his mind the three of them,  
attempting to make small talk while inwardly cursing their misspent  
youth. Walker would have a small pot belly and a beard, and his  
hair would be iron grey. Jack would have thinning brown hair with  
silver chasing, but he would be rail thin as he still spouted  
regulations at them. No beard. He himself would have a beard by  
that point, and a matching head of white hair. He'd keep in shape,  
but he'd probably need a cane by that point if he didn't stay out  
of bar fights.

He grinned at the mental image of the three old men in his  
mind, then banished the smile and the thought together. No use  
thinking about what could never be. The transporter caught him,  
and his world became the _Stargazer_ once more.

VVVVV

The turbolift was taking forever. Again. One of these days,  
someone was going to have to find what was wrong with it, probably  
when they docked at Earth twenty years from now.

He hurried onto the Bridge, but for once didn't stop to chat  
with Gilaad. When the Captain ordered one to the Ready Room, one  
did not dawdle. He stopped himself before barreling in, and rang  
the chime.

"Come." The door swished open, and he walked in. The Captain  
was seated behind the expansive desk. In the opposite chair, there  
was a man, youngish. He seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite  
figure out where he'd seen the face.

"Jean-Luc, I'd like you to meet someone."

The newcomer's eyes grew wide, but he only said, "Ensign Jack  
Crusher," as he extended his hand. The name poked around in his  
mind, then rested on a misty memory of a dark night and a loud  
Andorian.

"Lieutenant-Commander Jean-Luc Picard." As their hands met,  
he felt something odd inside, and saw recognition reflect in Jack's  
dark eyes. It was as though a single chime had been struck in an  
empty room somewhere, and things were suddenly the way they ought  
to be, or nearly so. There was still a vacancy in the room,  
something or someone missing. Someone named Walker Keel.

The Captain, not much impressed with the ebb and flow of time  
and space uniting at a singular point in the universe, said with  
more than a touch of irony, "And I'm in command of both of you.  
Now that we're all friends, I'd like your attention."

Immediately, they dropped the handshake and faced the Captain.

"Jack will be working mostly in the sciences, but he's also on  
the command track. I want you to show him the ropes around the  
Bridge. At least make sure he knows which buttons not to push.  
Or whose."

He nodded. Considering the nature of the _Stargazer's_  
mission, it was a very good idea to know whom not to anger. Frayed  
tempers out in the middle of nowhere could be deadly. He grinned  
evilly as a stray thought passed through his mind.

"Don't worry, Jack. I'll show you which ones you can deck in  
your next bar fight."

The Captain frowned, but Jack laughed. "Just so long as you  
avoid any and all Andorians."

"Deal."

The Captain looked from one to the other. "Have the two of  
you met before?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Do I want to know what it has to do with Andorians and bar  
fights?"

"No, Captain."

"I didn't think so. Dismissed."

Jean-Luc led Jack onto the Bridge, then introduced him to  
Gilaad, while he showed him the aft science station.

The Captain emerged from the Ready Room shortly afterwards,  
walked to the front of the Bridge, and with a nod to the  
Communications officer, made a general address to the crew: "Your  
attention please. Starfleet has just contacted me. These are our  
new orders ... "

VVVVV  
Chapter 2: Shore Leave, San Francisco

"It was raining in the city by the bay, a cold rain ... " He  
stopped when the stare from the woman next to him told him that  
he'd been talking to himself out loud again. Gotta stop that, he  
decided. It wouldn't look good on his record if a higher-up in  
Starfleet got wind of the fact that the newest starship captain  
enjoyed having conversations with no one around.

Captain. He grinned, once again oblivious to his  
surroundings. He could hardly believe his good fortune. Not that  
he hadn't completely earned it, of course, but it was still new,  
and yes, surprising. Even to him.

The cold rain in the city by the bay increased its tapping on  
the polymer roof of the trolley stop. The rain had caught him by  
surprise. He had intended to walk around Ghiardelli Square for  
a while, perhaps see if his initials were still etched discretely  
(well, maybe not discretely) near the base of the mermaid fountain.  
Then he would return to his room and perhaps call up some old  
acquaintances, preferably a charming, intelligent acquaintance who  
didn't mind overmuch that his shore leave would only last a little  
more than a week. When his two good-for-nothing best friends  
finally showed up, he'd ask whoever it was if she had two equally  
charming, intelligent friends.

As he'd almost reached the fountain, the grey clouds overhead  
had decided to grace him with a typical San Francisco December  
downpour. By the time he'd made it to shelter, he'd already been  
soaked through. Ah well. The rain had not changed his plans much;  
instead of walking around further, he'd simply take the trolley  
back to the hotel, change, then dig out his black book. One of  
these days, he was going to bronze it. Currently, he was simply  
glad to not have thrown it out.

The jingling of the trolley bell caught his attention, and he  
had to smile. Some things would never change, he thought. An idle  
thought, half-remembrance, half-daydream whispered at him, and his  
smile faded. Some things would never be the same again, either.

He boarded the trolley last, wanting to show some old-  
fashioned Starfleet courtesy. Fortunately, there were plenty of  
free seats. He spied one near the back, and made his way slowly  
towards the rear of the trolley as it glided forward on its path  
again.

Maybe there was a small rock that rolled in the path of the  
wheels. Maybe the rain or perhaps neglect had allowed part of the  
track to come loose enough to break the smooth ride for half a  
moment. He did not know, but he speculated later to himself,  
wondering. Whatever it was, it caused the trolley to hit a bump,  
just a small one, enough to make it lurch by the tiniest measure.  
He did not even put out a hand to steady himself, merely shifted  
his weight and turned his head a fraction of a degree.

That was all it took to bring one of his fellow passengers  
into his line of sight. She sat on the outside edge of the trolley  
looking out into the rain. An old-fashioned book lay open and  
forgotten on her lap. He knew, somewhere inside, that it was a  
romantic novel, not the kind where the hard and handsome space  
pirate steals the heart (and a few other things) of the proud  
daughter of the Betazoid Royal House; instead it would be a story  
where some fantastic Prince Charming with the face of a monster and  
the soul of an angel gently wooed a poor young woman from the local  
village. She was quite certainly dreaming at that very moment of  
finding such a poor soul to love, whom she could free from torment  
by a kiss.

He could see the wistfulness and the rain reflected back in  
her face, could just barely see that her eyes were blue like a  
Spring morning. Her long auburn hair was in a neat braid down her  
back, which, along with the deep blue of her jacket, accentuated  
the slight blush in her cheeks, from either the cold or her silent  
thoughts.

He moved to the seat beside her and asked as casually as he  
could, "May I have this seat?"

She looked up at him as if put out by his disturbing her  
daydream. "Sure. Where will you take it?" He opened his mouth to  
answer, realized that he could think of nothing to say, and simply  
sat down. She picked up the book and resumed reading, allowing him  
to observe her more. Now that she was so close, he could see that  
she was younger than he, perhaps by as much as ten years. As he  
watched her, though, he realized that she was going to be one of  
those women whose age would always be a mystery. He loved  
mysteries.

Maybe he could start her in a conversation. "What's that  
you're reading?"

"It's called a book." And a smartass to boot! He was falling  
more in love with her by the moment.

"I read one of those once." This was a game made for two.

"Really? Did you enjoy the pictures?" Ouch! She was good.

"No. None of them were half so lovely as you."

She stared at him. Had she been a Vulcan, he had no doubt but  
that she would have raised an eyebrow. Then again, so would he.  
Where had that line come from? Time to make some updates to his  
techniques.

"Excuse me," she said, and she got up to move past him. He  
couldn't keep her there. He shifted out of the way and watched her  
find another seat.

She went back to her book. He tried to think of something to  
say, but he couldn't. Every line he ran over in his head sounded  
as forced and stupid as the one he'd used. The stop nearest his  
hotel came and went. He knew he should just get off the trolley,  
go back to his room, change his clothes, and spend the rest of his  
shore leave as planned: spending time with his two best friends,  
making time with the fast-evaporating charming companion from his  
imagination, planning time to go home for a visit. (Note: In an  
alternate timeline, he did exactly that. He got off the trolley  
and never looked back. His current designation is Second of Seven.  
- eds.) Time became a fluid thing, quick and laughing like the  
rain, as he watched her from the corner of his eye.

She sat quietly reading her book, to which he could now see  
the title: "Cyrano de Bergerac." Rostand! He loved Rostand! He  
could recite long passages, both in the original French and at  
least five translations. A smile found his face and left it again.  
She thought he was a lunatic. This could put a dent in any plans  
he might have of reciting 19th Century poetry in the middle of a  
24th Century trolley car.

The next stop was the Academy. He could not justify this to  
himself any more. He would get off there, maybe go hunt down  
Boothby or old Professor Galen or someone, then go back to the  
hotel.

The trolley stopped. He stood up to go, realizing that she  
would be gone forever from his life as soon as he disembarked.  
Then she closed her book, stood up, and without a glance, moved  
towards the aisle and out into the rain.

He followed her. He had no choice in the matter; already his  
mind was filled with hopeless wonder at what he was doing. The  
words "obsession" and "stalker" passed through his mind like wind  
and were gone with the falling raindrops. He kept several paces  
behind her, watching her umbrella bob along at a good pace. It was  
blue, and all he could think was that it suited her well.

After about a minute, she spun around. He smiled, and tried  
to pretend that he just happened to be behind her gazing longingly.

"If you don't stop following me, I'm going to call for  
Security!"

"I'll stop following when you stop leading me." Not again!  
He really was out of practice at this. The look that she gave him  
would have frozen him through if he weren't already shivering. She  
made a beeline for a cadet. If she called for help, he would have  
a great deal of explaining to do to the people who'd just promoted  
him.

"Wait! Please don't go." She stopped and turned around. "I  
just want to talk, okay?"

"Listen, I'm sure there are plenty of women around who would  
be happy to 'talk' with you. I don't happen to be one of them.  
Leave me alone!" He could hear the rain against her umbrella now.  
It really was freezing outside, and he needed to go back.

"All right. I'll go." No! part of him thought. Not yet!  
"Let me ask you just one question, and then I promise to never  
bother you again."

"What?" she asked impatiently.

"What's your name?"

For a moment, she just stared at him. He realized that she  
was probably expecting something lewd, or maybe even some grand  
histrionic statement about women who break the hearts of poor young  
men.

"Beverly. You can leave now."

"Beverly ... " He couldn't help but smile. "Okay. I always  
keep my word." His heart curiously light, he turned on his heel to  
go, although he had no idea where to go now. Beverly, he thought,  
and let the word roll around lazily in his mind. He decided it was  
the second-loveliest name he'd ever heard.

Utterly unaware of the pathetic figure he made, bare-headed in  
the rain, he walked with a smile back the way he came.

Then he heard her curse.

"Hold on!" she said. As he turned, wondering what he'd done  
wrong now, she approached him carefully. Then she moved close  
enough to extend her umbrella over both of them. "I'll at least  
walk you to where you're going. But that's it."

He couldn't believe it! Outside, he tried to remain calm, but  
inside he was giddier than he'd been since his first date. Then he  
realized to his horror that he really did have no idea as to where  
he was going.

"Well, I was sort of just sightseeing around town when the  
rain caught me. I haven't been here in years."

"How many years?" Uh oh.

He coughed, then admitted, "Twelve."

"Ah. So you just happen to be back in San Francisco for the  
first time in twelve years and immediately start hitting on the  
first cadet you see."

"You're a cadet?" Oh boy. Starfleet generally frowned upon  
Captains dating cadets. Or anyone else for that matter. It didn't  
look very good at the Admirals' Dinner. Then again, neither did  
most of the admirals.

"No. I'm in my first year at Starfleet Medical." Whew! "So  
are you actually going somewhere, or will you stand in the rain for  
the rest of the day? I'm not staying here."

He decided to chance it. "Maybe we could go somewhere and  
talk." He realized a second too late that "talk" was not the best  
word to use. "I know this great spot two blocks away where they  
serve the best coffee in town. I don't know about you, but I'm  
getting cold. I'll buy."

"I don't drink coffee."

"Tea, then. Cocoa. Anything! Let's just sit down."

"I have a thousand other things to do. I should leave you  
right here." As if to emphasize her words, the rain began to pound  
harder on the umbrella. However, she seemed to be talking more to  
herself than to him.

"But you won't. Please say that you won't."

She looked at him. "You're right. I won't,"

They walked together to Morag's Pub which advertised "The Best  
Coffee in the Federation." She ordered some herbal tea he'd never  
heard of. He ordered a cup of coffee. After one sip, he knew that  
Morag would never lose her reputation.

They began to talk of idle things, about the Academy, things  
that had changed, things that wouldn't. He mentioned his friends  
to her, even going so far as to describe what he could remember of  
meeting them. She laughed, and mentioned something about stooges,  
but she wouldn't explain the comment.

After her second cup of tea, she seemed to warm to him. Her  
smiles were frequent, and he found that he liked them very much.

Then he mentioned the fact that he was a starship captain.

She leaned back. "Please say you're joking."

"Nope. I was promoted last week. I'm here to oversee the  
final refit of my new ship."

Her smile went away. "I see, Sir." She stood up and picked  
up her book and umbrella. "It was very nice talking to you, Sir."

He got to his feet and touched her arm. She pulled away.  
"What?"

"Sir, I don't wish to be rude, but I have things to do."

"It's Saturday, and don't keep calling me 'Sir.'"

"I don't know your name, Sir. As I said, I really need to be  
going now."

"Beverly ... "

"Starfleet has protocols about cadets fraternizing with  
officers."

"No it doesn't." He was grasping for paper straws. He  
actually didn't know one way or the other.

"Yes it does. That was a question on one of my first exams."

"So therefore, as long as you're a cadet, I can't fraternize  
with you?"

"Yes."

"Oh good. I was never one for fraternization anyway. The  
last frat boys I knew tried to fill the Academy swimming pool with  
green gelatin. Look. I don't want to 'fraternize' with you. I  
just want to talk. What about over dinner?"

"We've had this conversation before, S... Captain."

He sighed. She was going to make this difficult on him. Then  
he noticed something. She had set her umbrella and book back on  
the table. She had also made no further attempt to leave. Hmmm ...

He dug into his jacket and pulled out his new insignia pin.  
He'd received it the day before. He tossed it on the table. "I  
resign."

"You what?"

"I resign. I am no longer in Starfleet."

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Nope. Of course, I intend to reactivate my commission  
eventually, but at least not until after dinner."

She looked at him, then at the pin on the table. Her sides  
trembled, and he realized she was laughing.

"You are impossible. Sir."

"Tsk tsk. I'm not a 'Sir' anymore, Cadet."

"Okay. You are impossible. Ma'am."

"How about this: 'You are impossible. Walker.'"

"Fair enough. Is that your first name, last name, or  
temporary means of transportation?"

"First name. My last is Keel, by the way. What's yours?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because it will look rather odd if I show up at your  
dormitory asking for Med Student Beverly."

"You do have a point."

"So is that a yes?"

She looked at him. He could see the conflict on her face.  
"Yes?"

He grinned again.

VVVVV

If some well-meaning person had asked her on Friday if she  
thought it were possible to fall in love in a day, Beverly Howard  
would have fixed the person with a look that said "I don't believe  
you're even asking me that" and then she probably would have  
laughed in the questioner's face. She would have regretted it  
terribly by Sunday.

Beverly had never been the type to go mooning over handsome  
men. While her friends had spent hours at a time discussing how  
this guy was "Sooooo cute!" and that one "Such a dweeboid," she had  
sat back listening to them, amused. About half of those friends  
had dropped out of the Academy, some because they wanted more of a  
social life, some because they'd had too much of one, and at least  
three that she knew of who had spent time around the "cute" guys  
and would probably regret it often over the next eighteen years or  
so. Not Beverly. She was bright enough to learn from the mistakes  
of the people around her. There was no way she would let herself  
get caught up like that.

She'd thought.

When she'd first seen the man on the trolley, which actually  
was not until he'd started talking to her, she had instantly pegged  
him as just another guy with too much testosterone and too little  
common sense. She'd faced down his kind before. When he had  
finally started walking away at the Academy, she'd been filled with  
relief.

Almost.

Something else had nagged at her then, something she hadn't  
allowed herself to feel in some time. She regretted watching him  
go. He'd looked like a puppy who'd been given a biscuit and then  
kicked outside. Unwillingly, she had been moved, the same  
compassion that she felt for the wounded and the sick swelled up  
for this strange man who came from and left into the pouring rain.

When he'd taken her to dinner that evening, he'd chosen the  
same place where they'd had their chat that afternoon. To her  
surprise, the food was just as good as the tea had been. When he  
was wearing dry clothing and had combed his hair, he was actually  
somewhat handsome, she decided, and despite her best efforts, she  
found herself growing fond of him.

Afterwards, they'd gone down to Golden Gate Park and walked  
around for hours, still just talking. The rain had stopped and  
washed the city clean. The buildings, tall and graceful against  
the sky, shimmered with thousands of twinkling lights, and the few  
stars that could be seen were bright and clear. The wet grass soon  
soaked through their shoes, and so they had ended up taking them  
off to walk barefoot. Beverly had never felt so safe.

From their idle chat about the weather, they'd moved to more  
serious things. She learned about how he'd visited the Academy  
when he was young, and some of the places he'd gone in Starfleet.  
In turn, she told him a little about her mother's death and her  
father's abrupt departure, and about living with Nana on Caldos.  
There were other things, too, about productions she'd been in at  
the Academy, strange people he'd met in his travels, a thousand  
little details shared and learned.

Near midnight, he'd walked her back to her dorm, and had told  
her quietly about his divorce. At first, she'd been a little  
surprised, and then worried. If he were just coming out of a  
relationship, going back into one was not a good idea. She'd said  
so.

Then he'd smiled and said that was the first time she'd even  
implied that they would see each other again.

She had blushed to her ears instantly.

Then he had asked her, shyly, if she would like to see him  
again the next day.

She'd said that she would.

He had then kissed her on the forehead and told her that he  
was glad, then walked back to his hotel in the darkness.

By the time she'd readied herself for bed, she had realized  
that something wonderful had happened: she'd fallen in love. Then  
she had laughed at herself for being so silly; no one fell in love  
in one day. Yet, when she had turned out the light, she had  
thought of him again, and her heart had given the smallest of  
leaps, as if it too had hit a tiny stone in its otherwise smooth  
path through her life.

VVVVV

Walker combed his fingers through his hair one last time and  
declared himself passable. He checked his watch: time to go. He  
grabbed his jacket and exited his hotel room. He would have just  
enough time to get to Bev's dorm before the party started.

At the street, he managed to hail a passing taxi with only a  
little trouble. At least it wasn't raining this time. He handed  
the driver his credit slip, and told him the Academy and the name  
of the building.

As the taxi pulled away from the curb, he sat back, smiling  
and planning the upcoming evening. The Academy had a number of  
scheduled parties for the cadets through the year, and Bev had  
asked him to go with her to this one so that he could actually meet  
some of her friends. She'd been telling them about him, although  
he was willing to wager that she hadn't mentioned everything,  
including what he was planning for later in the evening, after  
the music had ended.

They had spent most of that Sunday together. All his thoughts  
of going home to visit had been whisked away by thoughts of her.  
They had talked and laughed and walked for hours through the city.  
Although he had been in and around San Francisco for as long as he  
could remember, it became new and wondrous again through her eyes.  
Buildings he had taken for granted were things of beauty when they  
explored them together. Beverly hadn't lived on Earth, hell,  
hadn't even seen Earth, before she had come to the Academy, and had  
not done a great deal of sightseeing when she'd gotten there. He  
found himself acting as tourguide, pointing out the little details  
that he had forgotten in seeing them so often. They'd bought  
dinner from a vendor near the marina and eaten it watching boaters  
in the bay come in for the evening.

By the end of the day, it had seemed the most natural thing in  
the universe for her to come back with him to his hotel. At least  
they'd remembered to get a wake-up call, or she would have been  
late for her first class. He had slept in, not waking up until  
nearly noon. When her classes had finished for the day, he had  
picked her up at her dorm and surprised her with a trip to see a  
play she'd mentioned the day before. By the time they got back to  
his room, he had a message waiting from Jack, saying that he and  
Jean-Luc would be delayed but that they should be there Saturday at  
1230 hours.

They fortunately managed to pass the time without them.

The following morning's wake-up call had been two hours  
earlier, so that she could actually get some reading done before  
class. He had left with her, spending the day at Starfleet Command  
going over the records of his future command crew. He had met her  
again when she got out of her evening xenobiology lab and they had  
spent half the night sitting and wishing on stars. Back at his  
hotel room, he'd taken out his mandolin and played a song for her  
that had come into his head during the day, a song about longing  
for and finding a place to be, and about friendship.

Neither of them had slept at all that night.

The rest of the week was a blur to him, filled with crew  
evaluations by day, Beverly's laughter in the early afternoon and  
evening, and her soft body in the night. He had felt himself slip  
deeper and deeper into the relationship, until even his daytime  
thoughts were filled with her intoxicating presence.

As the taxi slowed to a stop, he wondered what was going to  
happen to the two of them. He knew she had gotten almost no work  
done in the past week, and he certainly hadn't been able to  
concentrate on duty rosters and previous commendations. He had  
never been involved with anyone this way, never had such intensity  
focusing on one person.

He got out and headed to the door. He still hadn't told her  
that he loved her. The word just didn't fit what he felt. She was  
the breath he took, she was the starlight they watched, and she was  
the fire that ate his heart and left it aching for more. Love?  
That didn't begin to describe it.

VVVVV

The book made a solid thump when it impacted with the door.  
It was quickly followed by a shoe. It wasn't until she heard his  
footsteps receding down the hall that Beverly sat down on the edge  
of her bed and tried to catch her breath.

She was ready to scream, to hurt someone, preferably Walker.  
She had never been so humiliated! Finally, she had introduced him  
to her friends, let them see who had melted the "Ice Maiden," as  
Stephanie called her when she thought she wasn't listening. How  
stupid could she have been? She knew what Fleet men were like,  
especially the older ones. She'd seen what had happened to her  
friends' relationships, and why.

But no, nothing like that could ever happen to Beverly. There  
was no way that the man she was with could have a sip too many of  
the free drinks at the party. That only happened to other people,  
right? It couldn't have been Walker who'd left her there at the  
side to watch as he danced with a few of her friends, and even if  
it was, he was only being friendly, right? Trying to get them to  
like him. Really. Trying very hard. Trying so hard that he  
forgot that he was there with someone and began getting really  
friendly with good ol' Stephanie. That could never happen to her.

At least they had saved the argument until she'd dragged him  
outside. She already didn't want to face her friends after this,  
and considering what they'd said to each other, she was very glad  
no one else had heard.

She was not jealous, and she was not being possessive! As far  
as she was concerned, he could lay everyone in her class, so long  
as he left her the hell alone.

"Insensitive son of a ... " she mumbled out loud, then  
realized she was talking to herself.

The tears started soon afterwards.

About an hour after he left, the comm panel buzzed. He'd left  
her a message. She considered deleting it, then played it anyway.

"Beverlove, I'm sorry. I acted like an idiot. You probably  
don't want to talk to me right now, but can I meet you at Morag's  
tomorrow at noon to talk? Please? Love you. Walker."

She knew that she should feel some measure of relief. He'd  
acknowledged that she was right. She'd won. Hooray.

She turned the panel off and then the light. Sleep, however,  
eluded her for a long time.

VVVVV

He heard buzzing. Loud buzzing. Slowly, he pulled away from  
his dreams and into the harsh light slanting into his room. It was  
his wake-up call. Lovely. He slapped the panel with more force  
than necessary, then buried his head under the covers again. This  
did not stop the ringing in his ears.

He sat up some time later and glanced at his chronometer.  
1200 hours. Damn!

He sprang out of bed and grabbed his uniform, which he'd  
thrown over a chair the night before. He had to pick up Jack and  
Jean-Luc at Starfleet Headquarters in half an hour. It figured  
that they would only get to spend three days together rather than  
their planned ten, but that was the life they'd chosen. There  
would be other shore leaves.

As he flew out the door, something nagged at him. He was  
supposed to do something else today, but he couldn't remember what.  
Oh well. He'd remember eventually.

VVVVV

He tried not to run down the hallway. He was late, more than  
late. It had taken forever to get to Headquarters. The guys had  
probably decided that he'd forgotten them. He ran past several  
officers of various ranks and nearly tripped over a bench, where he  
vaguely noticed two people sitting. Ten meters down the hall, he  
stopped dead, then turned around. The pair stared at him.

"Walker, maybe you should think about that Retnax V  
treatment," said Jack.

"My eyes are perfectly fine, thank you. It's the rest of me  
that's going," he said in his grumpy-old-man's voice. He faked a  
limp back to them. "Can't keep up with you youngsters anymore."

"You seemed to be making pretty good time down the hall,"  
remarked Jean-Luc, standing. "Besides, I'm older than you are."

Walker shared a glance with Jack. They said in unison: "We  
know," then laughed at the look on his face when he realized he'd  
set himself up again.

"Lord," said Jean-Luc, "it's bad enough I'm spending my  
vacation," (Jean-Luc was the only human Walker had ever known who  
could manage to make it sound like a dirty word) "with him. But to  
have both of you?"

"Admit it --- you're secretly in love with us both."

Jean-Luc put on a serious expression. "You know, that must be  
it, for I can't think of any other reason I would spend time with  
either of you." Oh, but it was wonderful to be in their presence  
again, drink in the old conversations like aging wine. He'd missed  
them. Maybe the "secretly in love" bit was stretching it, but then  
again ...

With an almost audible click on the word "love", he remembered  
what he had forgotten.

"Uh oh." Without an explanation, he ran down the hall. He'd  
seen the communications panel there somewhere. There! He keyed  
in his code as his mystified friends caught up.

"Walker, are you okay?"

"No. I'm in really really deep trouble."

A small, dark-haired woman with blue-grey eyes answered the  
panel. "Morag's Pub. What do you need?"

"Could you do me a big favor and check to see if a young Human  
woman, very pretty, with long red hair, is sitting at one of the  
tables?"

"Hold on." She moved away from the screen. Walker ignored  
the looks from the other two. After too long, she came back into  
sight. "Sorry, no one by that description is here. Amy Lou says  
that she saw someone who looked like that, but that she left a few  
minutes ago, looking upset."

"I'll bet. Thanks."

"Welcome." He closed the link and pounded his head against  
the screen. "Damn damn damn!"

"What's wrong?"

"Let's just say that the love of my life has just walked out  
of it."

"Again?"

Walker refused to respond. Instead, he dialed the number to  
Beverly's dorm. He recognized the woman who answered quite well.  
She had been the one to get him into this mess. He tried to play  
it down. "Hi Steph. Is Beverly there?"

Her mouth twitched. "Not right now. Want to leave a message  
for her, Walker dear?" A shudder ran through him. Her voice was  
sweet, but her eyes were snake-like: half-lidded, cold, and very  
shallow.

"Yes. Tell her that I'll be over tonight around eighteen  
hundred, okay?"

"Tonight. Eighteen hundred. Got it." She flashed him a  
smile and cut the link.

"Walker dear?" Jean-Luc sounded amused.

"I'll explain on the way back to the hotel."

"I hope so. You can start by telling us who Beverly is."

VVVVV

Jack had always been amazed at Jean-Luc's innate ability to  
attract women of every age and species. By sixteen hundred hours,  
Jean-Luc had a date with some woman named Phillipa.

Walker was preoccupied. When they had returned to the hotel,  
he'd found a message waiting from Beverly: "Don't bother." He'd  
spent the last few hours staring out the window, barely speaking to  
the two of them.

Jack, who had neither a date for the evening nor a woman to  
contemplate, decided that shore leave was going to be amazingly  
dull this time around.

Maybe he could pay a visit to his grandparents. Then again,  
maybe not. He'd gone on shore leave with Walker and Jean-Luc to  
spend time with them, not with Grandma and Pop. Besides, he'd  
felt a rift slowly growing between them these past few years, ever  
since he'd joined Starfleet. They were growing older with each  
passing day. Perhaps they thought that pulling away from him this  
way would spare his feelings when they died. Every so often, though,  
he'd seen something more when his grandmother looked at him, her  
eyes touched with a sadness he could not understand. Whenever that  
happened, and it was more frequent as time went on, he felt a goose  
walk over his grave.

Thinking upon it now, in the daylight, he could dismiss the  
notion with a laugh, but he was prickly inside, and his skin wasn't  
fitting on his bones just right.

Walker glanced at the clock for the hundredth time in the past  
hour. "Listen, I'm really sorry about this, but I have to go see  
her."

Jean-Luc, who was currently making himself presentable in the  
mirror, merely said, "Good luck."

"Your enthusiasm is underwhelming."

Jean-Luc looked at Walker's reflection in the mirror.  
"Walker, since I've known you, you've had one and only one serious  
relationship. You've gone through more people than I'd care to  
mention in the past three years. I'm sorry, but I find it  
difficult to imagine that this relationship will be much of a  
change."

"It is different this time. She's different."

"Of course she's different. She's a cadet."

"She's a lot more than that. She's special. And she's not a  
cadet. She's a med student. At least I plan on seeing her again."

Jean-Luc turned around. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Jack suddenly realized that now would be a very good time to  
step into the conversation. "Guys, this is not worth arguing  
over."

The pair stayed locked for a moment, then relaxed. Jack cut  
in again before either one said something stupid. "Once again,  
irresistible charm meets immovable ego."

"You're right," said Walker. "Are we still friends?"

Jean-Luc paused to consider the matter. "I suppose." Then he  
smiled.

"In that case, good luck on your date."

"This isn't fair, you realize," said Jack.

"Well," said Walker, "if you want to come with me, maybe I can  
introduce you to one of Bev's friends."

"Great. I always wanted to date a cadet." Jack managed to  
duck the flying pillow just in time.

VVVVV

"What do you mean I'm no longer allowed in?"

"You have been declared persona non grata," said the young  
woman at the front desk. "Bev says that you're not to come  
upstairs."

Walker looked at Jack. "What about him?"

"Nope. He hasn't been signed in by one of the residents."

"Then we'll wait."

"Be my guest." Walker sat down in one of the uncomfortable-  
looking chairs. Jack remained standing, wondering why he'd come  
along.

Walker spent the next hour making a royal pain of himself,  
asking every five minutes if the woman would just page Beverly,  
that they really needed to talk. The woman was not impressed.

"Walker," said Jack after the twelfth time, "she isn't going  
to let you upstairs. We should go."

"You go. Go out, have a great time. I'm staying." Jack  
sighed. Walker was one of the most obstinate people he'd ever met.  
Once he had it in his mind to do something, he'd do it. From the  
night they had met onwards, Jack had pulled him out of more scrapes  
caused by his own stubbornness than either wished to contemplate.  
For a moment, he wondered what would happen to Walker if he wasn't  
there to watch over him and keep him out of trouble. Then it would  
be Jean-Luc's turn to babysit, he supposed.

"I'll stay. Someone has to keep Security from dragging you  
away." He turned to the woman behind the desk. "Listen, I can  
vouch for him. He's mostly harmless. If you could convince  
Beverly to come downstairs for just a minute, I promise he'll  
leave." He ignored Walker's indignant look.

The woman watched him. Jack took the opportunity to give her  
his best innocent farm boy look. It worked. She touched the comm  
panel. "Bev, would you please come down here?"

"Is that moron still there?" said the voice, very light and  
very angry.

"There are two morons down here. You'll have to be more  
specific."

"Captain Moron."

The woman looked up at Jack. He mouthed "Lieutenant" to her.

"Actually, there's currently a Lieutenant Moron waiting."

"I don't know any Lieutenant Morons."

"Then I'd suggest coming down here to meet one." The voice at  
the other end sighed audibly.

"Be right there."

Walker brightened considerably. In less than a minute, footsteps  
came down the hallway. A young woman poked her head into the  
room and frowned. Jack presumed instantly that it was Beverly.

"Lieutenant Moron? So did you get demoted?"

"No. This is Jack. He's Lieutenant Moron. I'm still Captain  
Moron."

"Charmed," she said, not even looking at him.

"Bev," said the other woman, "he said that he'd leave if you'd  
come down. You're down. He can leave."

Walker ignored her. "Can we please talk?"

"We were going to talk this afternoon, remember? I waited for  
half an hour."

"I had to pick up Jack and Jean-Luc. I completely forgot."

"Well, now that your buddies are here, you can go spend time  
with them and leave me alone."

"I'd much rather spend the time with you."

"You should have thought of that last night."

"I was an ass last night. I admit it."

"Yes, you were. Did you even consider how I would feel,  
seeing you hanging on to her like that?" She looked at Jack for  
the first time. "Would you like it if I were pawing him?"

"Why not? I was being treated like a piece of meat all night!  
You invited me to the damned party to show me off."

"I did not! I wanted you to meet some of my friends."

"Well, I met them. They've all seen your older man and they all know  
how mature you are for seeing someone as old as I am. Are you  
happy now?"

"Go away, then I'll be happy." Walker's face fell. Jack felt  
sorry for him, but he could see the woman's point.

"Beverly, I'm sorry."

"That doesn't work anymore. I want you to leave now. Don't  
come back. If you do, I'll have Security come. And don't call,  
because I won't be there."

Jack stood back. He was not a part of this, did not want to  
be a part of this. He would be quite happy to disappear into a  
quiet corner.

Walker looked at Beverly. "I'll leave you alone. You'll be  
happier that way." He turned around and walked away.

Jack stammered, "It was nice meeting you," and fled behind  
him.

VVVVV

They stopped at a bar on the way to the hotel. Jack watched  
Walker worriedly as they both ordered something cold and biting.  
The other man's tolerance was about nil, and after two drinks, he  
was ready to go back to his room and sleep. Jack walked him back,  
made sure that he was at least in his room, and left him. He'd  
seen Walker after affairs before. He'd collapse on his bed, mope  
around for a day, then be fine. Usually.

Jean-Luc's door was shut, and had the "Do Not Disturb" sign  
out. How did the man do it?

Jack went back to his own room and turned on the holoscreen.  
This was going to be a long week.

After a few minutes of random flipping, he turned it off. His  
conscience was nagging at him. There was no way that Walker was  
going to apologize to that woman, and he would probably never see  
her again because of it. That felt wrong. There had been  
something between the two of them, something even Jack had seen as  
they fought. It was rare, and powerful. He couldn't just let it  
go.

He turned on the comm panel, and within a few minutes, reached  
the dormitory they had recently visited. Fortunately, the woman  
sitting at the desk had been relieved, because he never could have  
convinced her to call Beverly to the screen for him.

"Hello?" She saw him, and her face darkened. "I thought I  
told you ... "

"You told Walker not to call, not me." She moved her hand  
towards the side of the screen, and he realized she was about to  
hang up. "Wait! Please." She paused.

"One of these days, I will learn not to listen when someone  
says that."

"Please don't make it now. Walker doesn't know I'm calling."

"Then why are you calling?"

"I just ... I just wanted to apologize. For whatever he did,  
whatever he said. Walker is a great guy, but sometimes he has the  
common sense of a lima bean. Trust me." He smiled, remembering,  
and she smiled back. This was a good sign.

"I've noticed."

"I guess what I really wanted to say is that Walker means  
well, but he's a fool if he doesn't realize what he's just lost."  
To his surprise, and perhaps her own, she blushed.

His conscience felt more at ease. Time to hang up before he  
made a similar fool of himself. Now he really should hang up, he  
thought. Hang up now, he thought. Turn off screen, he thought.

Such blue eyes, he thought.

"What's your name again, other than Lieutenant Moron?"

"Jack Crusher."

"Thank you, Jack Crusher. Good-night."

"Good-night." She turned off the screen. He sat in darkness,  
listening to the music from someone's radio in the room above him,  
something slow and romantic and beautiful.

VVVVV

Walker closed his mandolin case with a snap. That was the  
last of his luggage, not that he had brought much. In two hours,  
he would be aboard his ship as her new Captain. He should be  
thrilled. He should be ready to take charge, make a stand. He  
should be going over rosters, familiarizing himself with names and  
faces. He should not be contemplating going back to the Academy to  
beg on his hands and knees to a med student to take him back.  
Captains didn't do that sort of thing.

Jack and Jean-Luc met him in the corridor. They were going to  
see him off. He appreciated it, more so since he realized that  
he'd been neglecting them over the past weekend. Jean-Luc hadn't  
minded, as he had been spending a great deal of time with his  
latest conquest, but he knew Jack had been bored nearly to tears.

They took a taxi to Starfleet Headquarters, and talked the  
entire way there. Finally, he got to hear about some of the pair's  
exploits, and could share a few of his own.

When they reached HQ, they began talking of old times, of the  
exactly three months and two days that he had spent on the  
_Stargazer_ before being told in no uncertain terms that the three  
of them were forbidden to serve on the same vessel ever again.  
Then, suddenly, they were at the transporter room, and the pair of  
them would not be joining him.

Somewhat awkwardly, he hugged both of them, feeling foolish  
for the awkwardness. These were his friends, his good friends, his  
best friends. These were the men whose grandchildren he wanted to  
spoil, and whom he had already decided he wanted to retire with and  
live near. Then again, a week ago, he'd seen another face joining  
them in that harmless fantasy.

"Take care," said Jean-Luc. "You'll make a fine captain."

"Of course he will. He has to beat all your records." Walker  
grinned. He had so missed the two of them, and now he was leaving  
again. One of these days, he thought. One of these days, we're  
going to get it right. He stepped onto the transporter pad, and  
waved good-bye. Then the world disappeared in front of him, and he  
was alone.

VVVVV

Jean-Luc had another date with Phillipa. It was almost  
almost funny. At least he was being consistent. Jack was not  
particularly interested in picking up some stranger from a bar.  
Then again, he mused, that was how he'd met these two. He  
definitely wasn't interested in picking up someone from a bar.

He was tired of sitting in his hotel room, tired and antsy.  
He needed to take a walk.

The night air was warm for December. The streetlights made  
everything hazy and mysterious, and he felt as he had when he'd  
been a child holding his grandfather's hand on a similar evening  
walk. He had very little fear of the city, and so let his feet  
carry him wherever they chose. They chose to lead him to  
Ghiardelli Square, to the base of the mermaid fountain, where his  
initials were etched beside those of his two best friends. He  
stroked his fingers over the markings, wondering how long they  
would last before some well-meaning person sanded them to oblivion.

He sat down at the fountain, and watched the water streaming.  
In the distance, he heard the trolley bells, and smiled. He would  
always be curiously happy at that sound. It reminded him of the  
things that remained stationary through his life. Like the  
initials, the trolley bell would be ringing long after his name was  
forgotten. It was comforting in a way.

Other people milled around in pairs and groups, but he didn't  
feel isolated. In fact, his heart was light, and he felt magic  
crackling in the air. The year was about to end, and another one  
to begin. He felt ready to begin.

Someone sat down on the bench next to his own, and he realized  
that he should probably leave now, go and find what magic was  
waiting for him in the city. He stood, stretched, then nodded to  
the person on the other bench. She looked up. His jaw dropped.

"Ummm ... Hi Beverly," he said.

"Hi. It's Jack, right?"

"Yes. You know, this is the most amazing coincidence."

"Yes." They chuckled at the same time, which started them  
laughing harder. When she stopped laughing, her smile remained.

She asked him, "Why are you here? It's getting late."

"Jean-Luc has ... company, and I didn't feel like being  
trapped in a hotel room for another night. You?"

"I like it out here at night. The streetlights catch in the  
fountain. It gives me time to think." She looked at him, as if  
she were only really seeing him just now. "Are you at all cold?"

He shrugged. He'd left his jacket behind, and the air was a  
little chilly. "Kind of."

"I know the best place in town to get a cup of coffee. Or  
tea. Care to join me?" She said it lightly, but there was  
something hopeful in her glance that warmed him.

"I'd love to."

She stood up, and they walked back to the trolley station  
together, talking about the beauty that was the city at night.

VVVVV  
Chapter 3: Shore Leave, San Francisco, Part Deux

"What do you think about this one?" He handed Jack the book  
he'd found.

Jack read the cover aloud: "How to Advance Your Career Through  
Marriage." He looked up. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you  
were developing a sense of humor. Captain."

"Don't go spreading rumors like that around the ship. I have  
to maintain at least an illusion of dignity."

"Why start now?"

Picard glanced around, made sure no one was looking, and stuck  
his tongue out at his best friend is a most uncaptainly way. Jack  
laughed.

"You know, I think she might like this one. Think it should  
be obvious enough?"

"If it isn't, you may want to consider finding another  
girlfriend."

"Good point. Let's see. If I mail it today at the post, it  
should get there about a week before the Admiral's Dinner, give or  
take." Picard made a face. He didn't see why he had to go every  
year. "Then I drop by out of the blue with flowers, play tickets,  
and a diamond ring."

"That sounds like a good plan. Next question: do I get to  
meet her before or after you ask her?"

Jack scrunched his face in thought. "Hmmm. Better make it  
after. If I do it before, she might decide she likes you better."

"Somehow, I don't think that has much of a chance of  
occurring."

"You never know. Are you getting anything, or shall I go pay  
for this so we can leave?"

"I found two that look interesting." He showed Jack the back  
cover of one. The story itself was rather odd, some twentieth-  
century bit of fluff about King Arthur waking up from his slumber  
and running for the Mayor of Old New York City.

"Jean-Luc, you never cease to amaze me."

"That's why I'm the captain." Jack smiled.

Picard glanced at his other book, far more interesting to him,  
but probably less amusing to Jack. It was a new print of  
Aristotle's "Poetics," complete with what scholars said was the  
previously-lost second half, concerning comedy. The preface  
claimed that a copy had been discovered in some ruins in Scotland,  
almost destroyed by time and an ancient fire. He wasn't sure that  
he believed the story, but it had been a long time since he'd  
last brushed up on the section on tragedy.

Jack poked him in the arm. "Your turn." He moved to the  
register and handed his books to the cashier, wondering what  
Aristotle had known of laughter.

VVVVV

Everything was just perfect, he thought. Dinner had gone  
fine, and they'd danced for two hours, until just before the play  
had started. It had been a modernized production of "Cyrano de  
Bergerac," where both Cyrano and Christian were members of  
Starfleet, and the fair Roxanne a news reporter assigned to the  
Moon. They'd laughed through much of it, and both were teary-eyed  
at the end.

That was the past, now, prologue to everything that would be  
for them. At least, he wanted to believe that. He'd watched her  
all evening long, memorizing her every move, every gesture. He'd  
taken careful note of the blue in her eyes and the faint blush on  
her cheek, wanting to hold into these memories forever. When he  
was one hundred years old, he wanted to be able to recall every  
detail of this night, and he would tell it to their great-  
grandchildren as he sat before a raging fire in wintertime, with  
her nestled beside him on the couch.

He'd brought her to the mermaid fountain, where they'd started  
their first walk so many months before. The night was brilliant  
with stars, crisply outlined in the warm August breeze. Not so  
bright as in space, he thought, but space was cold, and she was  
warm.

"So," he asked casually, "did you happen to get a package last  
week?"

"Last week? No. Why?" He froze. Damn. So much for this  
going perfectly.

"Oh, no reason." Stupid postal system, he thought to himself.

"I did get something today, though." She grinned up at him,  
and he found himself smiling back. He loved her both in spite of  
and because of her devilish streak.

"Did you, now? And what was in this package?"

"Just some old book. Hardly gave it a glance."

"Did you read the title?"

"Actually, yes I did."

"And what did you think about that title?"

"I don't know. What do you think about it?"

He sighed inwardly. She was going to make him do this. "What  
do I think?" He paused. "I think I would be the happiest man in  
the Alpha Quadrant if you married me." He bit his lip and watched  
her.

She turned towards the fountain, where the clear water washed  
over the impossible stone being, to be drawn down and up and over  
again, in an eternal cycle.

Then she asked something he hadn't been expecting: "Have you  
talked to Walker yet?"

"Not about this. He's been talking with Dorian again. I  
think they might get back together. I didn't know how to tell him  
without jeopardizing that."

"Or hurting him?"

"Or hurting him." He touched her chin, bringing her eyes back  
to the present, back to him. "This isn't about Walker, Beverly.  
This is about you and me, and about the rest of our lives. I can't  
think of anything I've ever wanted as much as I want to be your  
husband. But I need to hear you say that you'd like that, too."

"In that case, I guess I have to say yes." He took his hand  
away from her face, uncertain of what he'd just heard.

"You don't have to." She took the hand back, and placed a  
kiss on his palm, then set it against her cheek.

"I want to." She smiled as she said it, and her eyes were lit  
with blue fire when she reached up to kiss him.

He remembered the ring several minutes later, but by that  
point, neither cared much.

VVVVV

The Admirals' Dinner had been as wretchedly boring as usual.  
At least he'd been able to slip out after the speeches and various  
mutual admirations went around the room. He hadn't even had a date  
for the evening, an event becoming more common as time went by. Of  
course, this had provided him the opportunity to pay attention to  
any similarly-unattended women at the dinner, but there had been  
fewer than he could remember from any year before. It seemed that  
most of Starfleet Command was heeding the nesting instinct, and  
pairing, or in a few cases, tripling up in alarming numbers.

Not even his two best friends were immune to it. Admittedly,  
Walker and Dorian had been together before and should never have  
split up in the first place. Still, even Jack, who'd never so much  
as mentioned the word "commitment" before in any other context than  
referring to a mental institution, had spent the prior evening  
attempting to convince a med student to marry him. As he had  
neither returned nor left a note telling all and sundry that he was  
going to go jump off the Golden Gate Bridge, presumably she'd said  
yes.

Not me, he decided. At least not now. After the fiasco that  
had been his romance with Phillipa, and he could not forget Jenice  
before her, he was in no mood to even consider settling down. The  
main lesson he'd learned thus far concerning relationships was that  
no matter how much one wanted to be with someone, it meant losing  
something important. For him, it was his freedom, the ability to  
pack everything in his suitcase and never look back.

Aunt Adele had called him the wandering kind, much as she was  
herself, unhappy with any one place for too long, always seeking  
the next horizon, the newest morning. She seemed sad when she said  
that, though, probably thinking of another young man whom she'd  
almost married who'd been the exact same way.

He stretched. Enough of this lying around. It was time to  
get up and get ready. The shuttle back to the _Stargazer_ left  
this afternoon, and Jack had promised to introduce him to his  
theoretical fiancee before he left. Alone.

That simply didn't feel right. Jack was going to be  
reassigned to Earth for the next year. His expertise in geologic  
analysis was needed for a special project concerning the Moon. It  
seemed that three hundred years after Lunar colonization, something  
new had been discovered. Not being involved with the project  
himself, all he knew was what Jack had been able to tell him.  
There was a small section of the Moon's crust, hidden by aeons of  
dust on the dark side, that appeared to have different properties  
than anywhere else on the Moon. However, the same properties were  
also discovered on a recently-raised section of the Atlantic Ocean.  
Jack's job would be to do an in-depth analysis of both areas, and  
determine the possibility of foreign intervention. If the theories  
flying around the project had any truth to them, it could be  
evidence of alien contact at least a million years ago.

It was an incredible thought, but Jack had confided that the  
job would probably get dull after a while. Besides, they were both  
born explorers, and it was only a year, right? Before they knew  
it, he'd be back on the Bridge of the _Stargazer_ teasing Picard  
about wanting his job. That had brought a smile to his face, but  
it had not quite stopped the strange feeling of loss in his  
stomach.

For now, they were staying in the small apartment Jack had  
rented the day before. He was already looking for a larger place,  
for when he talked Beverly into marrying him, but this would do.  
It had been amusing to see the look on the landlord's face when the  
two of them had moved Jack's possessions into the tiny apartment so  
obviously built for one.

He stepped into the shower, luxuriating in the feel of water  
against his skin for the first time in too long. There were a few  
things about life on Earth he definitely missed. He even allowed  
himself time to give his hair a proper water washing, which felt  
amazingly good. He turned the water off regretfully, watching with  
some concern as a few more hairs caught on the drain trap.

The outside door buzzed, and he cursed. He looked quickly for  
a bathrobe, but not seeing one, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it  
around himself, hoping it was someone looking for the previous  
renter.

The door buzzed again before he reached it. Somewhat annoyed,  
he opened it wider than he should have to answer.

There was a woman standing out in the hallway, and for a  
moment, he forgot how to initiate his breathing process. She  
wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but there was  
something about her bearing that went deeper than simple beauty.  
Her hair, a vibrant auburn, was long and rich, the soft hair that  
one ran one's fingers through at night murmuring sweet things. Her  
eyes were matched sapphires, glimmering with warmth and  
intelligence, watching him. Quickly, he ran through his biocontrol  
techniques, hoping against hope that his physical response to her  
presence wouldn't become noticeable. He remembered how to exhale,  
and managed an almost ungarbled "Hello?"

Seeing his state of undress, she stepped back nervously. He  
realized that he had probably startled her, but kept himself from  
readjusting the towel and embarrassing both of them further.

"I'm sorry. I seem to have the wrong apartment. I'm looking  
for Jack Crusher."

"You have the correct apartment. Jack isn't here right now."

"Oh." She looked disappointed. "Are you Jean-Luc?"

He nodded. She held out her hand. "Beverly Howard. It's  
nice to meet you."

Beverly? This was Beverly? The woman who'd stolen the  
hearts of his two dearest friends? He shifted the duty of holding  
his towel to his left hand and took hers with his right. "A  
pleasure, mademoiselle." She grinned.

"So are you going to stand out here all day in a towel or are  
you going to invite me in?"

Quickly, he moved aside and indicated the tiny living room.  
She entered, and looked around. "Kind of small, but it'll do."

"I'm glad you approve." Suddenly remembering, he glanced to  
her left hand. Sure enough, the small diamond that had once  
belonged to Jack's mother glimmered on her finger. He was glad for  
Jack, knowing how much he'd wanted her to accept his proposal, but  
for some reason that he couldn't understand, he also felt a strange  
sadness.

He noticed the message light blinking, and moved past her to  
see what it was. Jack's voice filtered through the room.

"Jean-Luc, just so you don't worry, I was at Beverly's last  
night." Suddenly, Beverly found an interesting spot to examine on  
the floor, her face turning as red as her hair. "I dropped by HQ  
on my way back. Big mistake. I'll be here till at least 1300  
hours. Bev's supposed to come by around 0900. Do you think the  
two of you could come here instead? I really would like to have a  
chance to say good-bye, but there's no way I'll be able to escape.  
Thanks, and I'll see you when you get here."

Picard looked at Beverly. "It seems we're wanted at  
Headquarters. Can you wait a moment while I get dressed?"

"Go ahead. I'm not going anywhere."

He went into the bedroom, where he'd dropped his few  
belongings. He checked the reclamator for his uniform.  
Fortunately, it was clean. He dressed quickly, grateful for the  
cover in more ways than one. He could face Jack's fiancee much  
better wearing clothing than not. The mental image of facing her  
without clothing came unbidden to his mind, and was only banished  
with a great deal of effort. He really had to stop this. She was  
going to be married to his best friend, for the sake of Kolker!

He stepped out of the bedroom to find her staring out the  
window. Her profile again stole his breath away, and he wondered  
how he would survive being in a cab with her for the time it took  
to get back to Headquarters. She turned back towards him and  
smiled in that way of hers again.

"Better. Are you ready?"

"Almost. I haven't had breakfast yet. Would you like  
something?"

She rubbed her stomach dramatically. "Depends. What do you  
have?"

He glanced into the kitchen nook, approximately the size of a  
medium-sized closet. This closet, fortunately, had a replicator.  
"Anything you want. I'd suggest something we can take with us."

"Well, pick something. No coffee for me."

"Don't tell me you have a prejudice against caffeine." He  
pulled up a menu and selected muffins with jam and a special brew  
of coffee Jack had programmed into the replicator before they'd  
even unpacked.

"I just don't like the taste."

"That's because I've never made it for you." He handed her a  
cup and a muffin. She scowled. "Try it." She sipped and scowled  
again.

"One of these days, I'm going to figure out how Jack drinks  
this stuff."

He took a taste of his own and made a similar face. "I think  
he got the recipe wrong." She took the cup from his hand, set both  
cups back on the replicator and ordered up two cups of Darjeeling.  
She took a taste.

"Much better," they said simultaneously, and laughed.

They locked the door, went down to the street, and, the day  
being as lovely as it was, decided to walk instead.

By the time they reached Headquarters, Picard was glad his  
shuttle was leaving this afternoon. He had no doubts but that  
continued contact with this remarkable woman would be disastrous to  
his friendship with Jack. Everything she said, everything she did,  
in fact, everything about her was a perfect counterpoint to his own  
ideas and thoughts and actions. She had her own mind and wasn't  
afraid to express her opinion, but she also had a gentle streak the  
size of the Seine.

They met Jack in what was to be his office. He glanced up  
from behind a huge pile of papers and his face lit up. "This must  
be my lucky day."

He quickly embraced Beverly and kissed her deeply. Picard  
tried not to watch, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable being in  
the same room with them. When they finally broke the kiss, Jack  
looked sheepishly at him. "You'll forgive me if I don't say hello  
the same way?"

"It's not hello. It's good-bye, remember?"

"I know." They stood in silence for a moment, and Picard  
realized what was happening. If Jack stayed, he would be losing  
him. When he went back to space, he would be leaving Beverly.

"So when's the wedding? I have to know when to convince  
Starfleet I need to bring the ship back to Earth so I can perform  
this thing."

Jack looked at him blankly. "What do you mean? As soon as I  
manage to tell Walker about this, we're going to ask him to perform  
it."

"Oh." Damn. Nothing like putting his foot in his mouth, was  
there?

Jack continued, "It would be difficult to have you perform the  
actual ceremony if you're standing in as Best Man." He stopped,  
then looked carefully at him. "You will, won't you?"

"Of course." He smiled, mentally kicking himself. He took  
Jack's hand and held it strongly. Beverly moved in between them  
and placed her own hand on top.

"And some days, you bite the dragon right back," she said, and  
she laughed at the confused looks on their faces.

VVVVV  
Chapter 4: You Say Good-Bye

Beverly was fully convinced that every day in San Francisco  
was a dreary one. She hadn't seen the sun in over two weeks, and  
it wasn't looking as though it would appear again anytime soon.  
There was no rain. She could have faced rain. Rain washed away  
things like dirt and gloom. It was just ... dreary. It was the  
only word she could think of. And it was only October. It was  
going to be a long winter.

Things wouldn't have been quite so bad if Jack were scheduled  
to come home soon. When he was home, her life passed in a  
delightful whirlwind of events and people and places and long  
nights when neither of them got any sleep. The anticipation alone  
would have been enough to keep her going for two months. However,  
he wasn't up for shore leave until April. She liked Jean-Luc. She  
really did. Sometimes, though, he could be a total prick about  
granting leave. Just because he never took vacations didn't mean  
that the people working for him didn't need them. Or the wives of  
the people working for him.

Well, she wasn't getting anything done like this, she thought,  
resignedly. She got out of her perch by the window, which was just  
wide enough for her to sit on the sill if she curled up, and went  
back to her open textbook. If she had to study postganglionic  
nerves one more time, she'd better get to it. Then she could take  
her exam, and after that, toss the book into the next blazing  
inferno she passed.

She stretched out on her stomach on the carpet, and chin in  
hand, reread the chapter for the ninth time.

She was feeling very antsy today, and it was not helping her  
concentration at all. Usually, she could focus on her books enough  
to absorb the information in one or two passes. This stuff should  
have been especially easy; it was an overview of her last three  
years for the first of several comprehensive exams she was about to  
take.

She began reading a section on the difference between  
preganglionic fibers and postganglionic nerves. She couldn't  
believe it. Any idiot who'd taken Biology 101 could tell the  
difference between the two. The book devoted an entire section on  
it. She had already come to the conclusion that comprehensive  
exams were revenge for someone's childhood traumas.

"I really really wish ... " she muttered to herself as she  
turned the page.

The door chimed.

She looked up. After a heartbeat, it chimed again. Wondering  
who in the hell it could be, she answered the door.

She found her husband bearing a flower and a smile.

"Honey, how fast can you pack for a few days? We're going to  
France in a half hour."

She stared at him. That will never work again, she thought.  
All she could think to say was, "What the HELL are you doing  
home?"

His smile wilted. "You don't want to go."

"Go where?" She was confused and getting upset. She loved  
him dearly, was extraordinarily glad to have him home, but ... now?

"France. Jean-Luc's home town. But we have to hurry before  
the shuttle takes off." He finally saw the confusion on her face.  
"I'll explain while you pack."

Well, this would certainly be more exciting than studying  
preganglionic fibers, anyway. She bowed to the moment and ran into  
their bedroom. Given her druthers, she'd like to stay there the  
rest of the afternoon with Jack and show him just how much she had  
missed him.

She grabbed a small suitcase and began stuffing in a few  
things she knew that she'd need. Jack ran into the kitchen and put  
the flower in a glass with some water: his idea of a vase.

He came back into the bedroom as she began tossing in her  
unmentionables, and he smiled lecherously. "If it weren't for the  
circumstances, this could turn out to be a very nice trip."

"What are the circumstances?" Beverly didn't like being  
kept in the dark.

"Jean-Luc's mother died the day before yesterday."

She dropped the suitcase and turned to hear this. "What?"

"She had a stroke. She died a few hours later."

"Oh." She sat down. "Is Jean-Luc okay? I know how hard that  
can be."

He nodded. "It is, but I think he's taking it okay. The  
problem is that his father has been ill for the past few months,  
and he's not taking it well at all." He lowered his voice. "Adele  
thinks he might just slip away in the night."

"That's common, especially among older couples. Why are we  
going?"

"Because Jean-Luc asked Walker and me to go with him. I  
thought that since I was on-planet, I'd pick you up, too. Jean-Luc  
considers you a friend, and right now, he could use some friends.  
From what he's told me, life at home isn't exactly rosy."

She smiled. "See? I told you he was related to you somehow.  
He even has the same grandparents."

"Come on. I know Grandma likes you. She's just not very good  
at expressing her feelings."

"I'd say she's very good at expressing her feelings." It  
was an old discussion; for no reason she could determine, Jack's  
grandmother had it in for her. She hadn't actively opposed their  
marriage, but her relations with her grandson had cooled  
dramatically since. His grandfather was slightly better and would  
acknowledge her existence now and then, but he also remained aloof.  
All she could imagine was that they envied her influence on Jack.  
As to why, she would not venture a guess.

"Let's not get into that now. We have to meet Jean-Luc and  
Walker at the shuttle in," he checked his watch, "fifteen minutes.  
Are you ready?"

She grabbed her suitcase and nodded.

A minute later, the apartment was devoid of life. An  
abandoned textbook lay opened on the floor giving to no one the  
difference between two really very different things.

VVVVV

For the sake of his friends, Jean-Luc attempted to smile.  
Jack hadn't seen Beverly in months, and probably wouldn't again  
until April, and Jean-Luc most definitely did not want to put a  
damper on the few days they would have together. Hell, someone  
might as well find a little happiness on this trip. He certainly  
wouldn't.

He stared out the window at the Atlantic rushing below them.  
Normally, he liked to take the trans-Asiatic route from San  
Francisco to France, but this way was faster time-wise, not that he  
really wanted to get home quickly. Maman was gone from his life  
for good, and he hadn't even had a proper chance to tell her good-  
bye. Now he had to bury her and face the probability that his  
father was about to die, as well. Meanwhile, Robert would be  
there, just as annoying and vicious as ever. He was not looking  
forward to this.

"Want to talk about it?" Walker asked, concern on his face.

"Not really."

"Well, if you do ... "

"I know. Thank you. What I really need from you right now is  
your presence. I can't imagine facing Robert right now without  
someone else there. Aunt Adele has already warned me about his and  
my father's current state of mind."

"I'll be there. So will Jack, once he's finished regaling Bev  
with every minute that's passed since their last letter." That  
brought a real smile to his face, as they both said, "Newlyweds."

At least they were keeping their hands to themselves this  
time. When the couple had time to spend together, they tended to  
get somewhat demonstrative, which always made him extremely  
uncomfortable. He would never have mentioned it to them, though,  
if Walker had not told him at one point that he was convinced they  
were actually having sex with their clothes on. They'd finally  
brought the matter up with Jack, who had taken the news in stride,  
and since that time, they had been far more aware of what they were  
doing in public.

"I appreciate it."

"On our way back, remind me to introduce you to someone in  
Paris."

Picard sighed. "Not again." Since he and Dorian had gotten  
back together, Walker had taken every opportunity to try to fix his  
remaining bachelor best friend up with someone or another.

"This one is different, I promise. You two would get along  
so well. Her name's Miranda."

"Walker?"

"Hmmm?"

"Drop it."

"Dropping it."

Silently, they watched the waves go by beneath them. After a  
time, he was aware of the lack of conversation on the other side of  
the shuttle. He turned his head enough to see Jack and Beverly  
holding hands and watching the ocean. A feeling he would not  
acknowledge swelled inside of him for a moment, but was quickly  
dissipated. Right now, he had other things to think about, and  
besides, these were thoughts he should never have in the first  
place. Walker said nothing, but Jean-Luc saw his mouth twitch. At  
least he understood.

The shuttle ride finished, too soon, he thought. They  
disembarked in Paris. He would have preferred to take the shuttle  
into Labarre itself, but there was none scheduled for today. They  
would have to rent a ground car and drive there themselves. It  
would take less than an hour, but he supposed the extra time would  
do him good.

As they disembarked, he brushed Beverly's arm by accident and  
cursed the thrill that went through him. Now was not a good time.

The Paris Transport Center was enormous. While not quite as  
large as its counterpart in San Francisco, the Center did a healthy  
business with the rest of the galaxy. Without thinking about it,  
he moved nearer to his companions. He'd gotten himself lost in  
this place many times. He kept an eye out for rental dealers.

"Jean-Luc!" A female voice shouted to him. Madly, he ran  
through a list of women he knew who might be at the Center. The  
voice was familiar, but whose was it? It wasn't Jenice, or Alice  
or Amanda Bloom. He scanned the crowd.

Someone was waving at him madly from about ten meters away.  
It was ... it couldn't be ... Aunt Adele?

She moved through the crowd as if it weren't there and  
immediately embraced him. "Welcome back, Jean-Luc." He hugged her  
tightly, happily surprised to see her. She looked radiant, even  
more so than he recalled. Her dark eyes were alight, and her face,  
which had always been the merry antithesis to his father's stern  
visage, seemed to belong to a much younger woman. It was as if she  
had not aged a day since they had last parted.

Walker cleared his throat, and Jean-Luc remembered the others.

"Aunt Adele, these are the friends I told you about. Walker  
Keel." Walker bowed and kissed her hand. "Jack and Beverly  
Crusher." She stared at Beverly for a long moment.

"Is something wrong?" the younger woman asked.

"Oh, no, my dear. You simply remind me of someone." She  
smiled warmly and shook hands with both of them. "It's nice to  
meet you. I can finally put faces with the names. Cameron and I  
can help with your bags."

Just then, Jean-Luc noticed the tall man standing quietly  
beside her. He held out his hand. "Cameron Frye. It's good to  
meet you. Adele has told me so much about you." He paused for  
just a fraction of a second and took the proffered hand. Then he  
shot the briefest glance to Adele.

"I wish I could say the same." Her gaze back told him that  
they would discuss this later. He certainly hoped so. Cameron was  
hardly older than he was! This was going to be interesting.

VVVVV

They stopped off in Labarre itself first. Despite Adele's  
assurances that they could all stay at the house, Jack, Walker and  
Beverly were going to rent rooms in the village. Adjoining rooms.  
Jean-Luc caught Walker's eyes rolling upward for help.

After a brief delay, they headed towards the Picard family  
estate. Cameron drove the entire way from Paris to give Adele a  
chance to spend time with her nephew before they entered the war  
zone. Unfortunately, they couldn't talk about why she was being  
attended upon by someone who was young enough to be her son when  
said person was driving the ground car, so instead she told him  
about how Robert was taking Maman's death. From what he could  
tell, it was nearly as bad as his father, although Robert at least  
wasn't convinced that he too was about to die.

"We're here," announced Cameron as they rounded the corner to  
the long driveway. Jean-Luc looked out the window, watching  
silently as the familiar old trees moved by them like a dream.

When he saw Robert waiting for them, he tensed inside. He  
felt a hand on his shoulder, then turned to see Adele watching him.  
He smiled. She had been the unofficial referee between them for  
more years than he could count.

"It's all right. I won't regress back into my childhood that  
easily."

"What?" said Jack. "You were a child?" Walker grinned and  
Adele tried to cover a laugh, but Beverly, of all people, came to  
his defense.

"Now Jack! I'm sure Jean-Luc was a very cute little boy."

Adele nodded in agreement. "Wait till I tell you about the  
time he and Louis ... "

"Adele!"

She laughed. "Well, perhaps not. Come on. Let's get you  
inside."

Robert was still waiting impatiently in the front of the house.  
When they were within about two meters of each other, he  
stopped.

"Hello, Robert."

"Jean-Luc." He tried not to wince. He could hear behind the  
word years of taunts at his expense. "I see you've brought  
guests." He sounded displeased. Then again, Robert always sounded  
displeased.

"They'll be staying in the village." Barely, he resisted the  
urge to justify bringing them. It was none of Robert's business.

"I see. Well, are you going inside or staying out here?  
Father has been asking for you."

"You didn't invite us in."

"It's your house, too." He could feel the old anger building  
in him again. Dammit, he didn't want to get into this in front of  
his friends, but he could sense Robert just aching to bait him as  
he had always done.

Then Aunt Adele, as usual, broke the tension by announcing,  
"You two can stand out here all day if you like. The rest of us  
will be in the drawing room." Then she said to the others: "Come  
inside; it was my house long before their parents even met." She  
held out her arm for Cameron to escort her; he took it, and they  
entered the house. Jean-Luc and Robert had no choice but to  
follow.

Adele led them all to the drawing room, a place he'd always  
loved, and made everyone sit down but him. "Let's get some tea for  
your friends." They exited into the kitchen. He heard Cameron  
asking them how long they'd known him. He had the same question.

"Put the kettle on, would you, dear?" she asked him, taking  
out the tea keeper. He complied, filling it with what he hoped  
would be enough water for seven cups of tea. Six, he amended.  
Walker despised tea. "Make sure there's enough for your father."  
Seven it was, and he set the kettle on the stove.

"So how long have you known him?"

"Your father? All my life. He's my brother, remember?"

He sighed. "Not him. That fellow out there. Cameron."

"Oh him." Her look grew distant for a moment. "If I told you  
that I've known him for centuries, would you believe me?"

"No."

"I didn't think so, but I tried. Jean-Luc, are you trying to  
be protective of me?"

"Aunt Adele, he can't be much older than I am."

"Can't he?" she asked, more to herself. "Jean-Luc, I  
appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm not a fourteen-year-  
old out on her first date. Cameron is my friend, a very good  
friend. Besides, I've been alone for long enough, don't you  
think?"

He nodded slowly. As far as he knew, she hadn't had anyone  
since the death of her fiance. Perhaps he was being selfish. It  
was just that he was used to being the center of her universe, and  
to come home after his mother's death to find that no longer true  
was a bit much for him. He leaned over and kissed her on the  
cheek. "Forgive me."

"For what? For acting like a thoughtful, if misguided,  
nephew? Hardly." The kettle squealed. Adele turned at once to  
putting the cups on a tray, then setting the other two aside.  
"Take your father's tea up to him. Talk with him a while. Hurry  
up, now." She fixed up the teacups quickly, and indicated which  
one to give his father.

He took the cups of tea up the stairs, past Robert's room, and  
to his parents' door. Now it was just his father's room. He  
knocked.

"Come," said the voice behind the door. For a moment, he had  
no idea who'd spoken. His father's voice had always seemed to him  
strong and vibrant, but this was the weak, gasping voice of an old  
man. He opened the door.

His father was propped up in his bed with pillows, gazing out  
into the vineyards. Although the blinds were open, the room was  
dark, and he could just barely make out his father's figure.

"Father, it's Jean-Luc. I brought you some tea."

"I can see that. Come over here." He approached the bed with  
the tea cups. Now he could see how frail the man had become since  
the last time they'd spoken. His limbs were gaunt, and his eyes  
seemed sunken. The fire in them was practically extinguished.  
Trying not to show his reaction, Jean-Luc carefully handed his  
father a cup of tea, wrapping the older man's hands around it so  
that he wouldn't drop it. His hand trembling, his father took a  
sip of it, then made a face.

"Did Adele make this?" He nodded. He set it down by his  
nightstand. "She keeps trying to give me roots and twigs in my  
tea. She says it will 'make me feel better.'" He laughed, but it  
turned into a small cough. "As if. I can't even have a decent cup  
of Earl Grey now."

"I'll see about sneaking some up to you."

"Don't. She'd know." He made a twisted face. "She thinks  
that giving me some kind of medication can make my life worth  
living."

"Father, don't talk like that."

"I'll talk any damned way I please. This is my home."

He knew that arguing was futile. "Yes sir."

His father looked up to him as if seeing him for the first time. "Jean-  
Luc. Home from Starfleet." He made the word sound like a curse.  
Perhaps to him it was; he certainly hadn't approved of his younger  
boy running off to the stars. Then again, he hadn't approved of much  
Jean-Luc had ever done. No matter what his achievement, be it  
winning a race or the presidency of the student council, even  
becoming a starship captain in near-record time, his father would  
only make noises about the vines needing tending. His mother had  
given up on mending the rift between them long ago, and had usually  
stood by for damage control after every incident, tapping lightly at his  
door after he'd stormed up to his room to ask if he couldn't humor his  
father just this once.

"Well," his father said, "it certainly took you long enough to  
get here."

"I came as soon as I heard the news. Fortunately, we were in  
range of another ship heading close to Earth."

"If you'd been on Earth, you could have been here in time."

He said nothing in response. Nothing he could say would  
change the truth: he had not been there when she'd died. From the  
look on his father's face, he may as well have killed her himself  
by not being home.

"Father," he began, "I think there are some things we need to say."

"Go." That hadn't been one of them.

"Father ... "

"Go back to Starfleet, back to your ship. Go back to space. You  
wanted to be there so badly. You have no reason to stay now." He  
rolled over and away from him. He couldn't leave, not yet!

"I came home to see you."

"Then you've seen me. Now go and take Adele's roots and twigs  
with you."

Jean-Luc numbly picked up his father's almost untouched  
teacup. "Yes, sir," he whispered.

He walked down to the kitchen and set the cups by the sink,  
then went to the door of the drawing room, where the others were  
chatting amiably. He saw his aunt laugh, and for a moment, felt a  
large wave of hatred for her. When his father had disapproved and  
his mother had watched quietly, Adele had stood up for him. She'd  
told her brother on many occasions that he was being an old fool,  
that just because their father had made him stay in the family  
vineyards was not a reason to keep both his sons at home. When his  
parents had asked him to remain on Earth, Aunt Adele had told him  
that he belonged among the stars. If it had not been for her  
constant faith in him, he might have obeyed his father on this one  
thing and so made him happy. Right now, he hated her for that.

The anger faded when she noticed him in the doorway. She made  
an excuse to see about something in the kitchen, then joined him.  
By the time they sat down, he had forgotten it completely.

"It didn't go well, did it?" He shook his head. She sighed.  
"Why is it that all Picard men are such stubborn idiots? We really  
need to get the two of you to sit down and talk, but not if you're  
going to fight each other on every point. You ought to talk with  
Robert, too."

"Why? I think both of them would be far happier if I left  
now." He folded his arms on the table and rested his chin on them.

"You know that's not true."

"Father said it was."

Her eyes widened. "I see. Jean-Luc, why don't you take your  
friends back to the village? Go out for dinner someplace, then  
leave them off and come back. Your father just needs some time to  
get used to your being here. The same goes for Robert. I'll stay  
here to get them both in the mood for listening."

"But they don't listen to you, either."

"I know that. By the time you come home, they'll both be so  
sick of me that they'll be grateful to have you back." She grinned  
evilly, and for a moment, he could see her as a young woman causing  
her own father and older brother no end of grief. Suddenly, he  
understood why they got along so well.

He nodded, then went to gather his friends.

VVVVV

Walker offered to spring for dinner. It had been far too long  
since the four of them had spent any time together, and the other  
three had other things on their minds than food. Jean-Luc took  
them to a place in town that he said had been a favorite when he  
was young.

Inside, the atmosphere was cozy enough. Young men gathered at  
the bar watching the young women seated at the tables. When  
Beverly walked by, several of the men gave her more than just  
passing notice until Jack took her by the arm. Walker hid his  
smile. He wondered how many of the young men would be in trouble  
when the young women talked to them later.

They found a table for four and Jean-Luc ordered for them.  
While they waited, they chatted about the village, how lovely  
everything seemed with Autumn coming on. Walker noticed how quiet  
Jean-Luc was, but he knew from long experience that he would say it  
in his own good time.

The wine came first. Jean-Luc, being the resident expert,  
pronounced it excellent. They toasted friendship and the years to  
come. Walker sipped his and instantly knew he was going to regret  
this in the morning. It was wonderful, going straight from his  
palate to his brain, and no doubt soon to be back on his tongue  
again to loosen it. He passed around the bread, hoping that food  
might stave off some of the effects of the wine.

Jean-Luc stared into his glass for a long time.

"Is something growing in there?" He looked up. Beverly  
repeated the question.

"No, not yet." His eyes were shuttered, though.

They had gone to the funeral parlour first. The four of them  
had gone inside together, but he had walked into the room with his  
mother alone. He had stayed about ten minutes, then walked out  
again, saying nothing. Walker wanted to know what he was thinking,  
but he couldn't ask. There were too many things involved in his  
friend's life right now.

He'd known for some time that Jean-Luc had more than just  
friendly feelings towards Beverly, not that he himself had not  
occasionally entertained similar thoughts. It would happen that  
the three of them would fall for the same woman, and only Jack was  
bright enough not to let her go. If he had, Walker knew that Jean-  
Luc would not have been far behind, if she would have him.

He knew it deep inside, the same way he had always known just  
when Dorian was going to drop by, or before Jack sent a letter, and  
the same way he had been prepared for days when Jean-Luc had called  
to ask him to come on this trip. He knew that he couldn't ask  
Jean-Luc what he had said to his mother because that was the way  
things had to be. When it came to Jean-Luc and Jack and Beverly,  
he was accustomed to accepting things because they simply were.

Jean-Luc livened up somewhat when dinner arrived, a trout dish  
from old Alsace that he adored. It wasn't bad, either. As they ate,  
Jack convinced Jean-Luc to tell a story of one of their adventures  
involving a missing heir to a throne, three angry Orions, a dog,  
and Jean-Luc convincing a band of pirates that Jack was actually  
his wife Alice. Jean-Luc grew more animated with each word,  
telling how the new Queen of Burb'nk 3 would only be appeased when  
she saw him kiss his lovely wife.

"So what did you do?" asked Beverly.

"What else could we do?" asked Jack. "He kissed me."

"And after that experience," Jean-Luc said to Beverly, "I have had the  
most profound respect for you. I don't know how you do it."

Dessert saw them in high spirits, although Walker was certain  
that most of it was the wine. He checked the bottle. It was from  
the Picard vineyards, and only bottled the year before. It was  
also empty.

When they finally left the restaurant, it was after 2100  
hours. Nine o'clock. Whatever. He noticed that his feet no  
longer seemed to be attached to his body. This could prove a  
problem. It would be nice to drive back to the hotel. Then he  
remembered that Jean-Luc had tasted as much of the wine as he had.

Fortunately, Jack suggested that they walk back to the hotel,  
and Jean-Luc went with them at Beverly's insistence. It was a  
chilly night, but Walker felt warm. He had to stop himself from  
humming several times. This was not a good sign. They reached the  
hotel too quickly; he was certain Jean-Luc was still unsafe for the  
road. Then Beverly suggested a game of cards as she'd brought a  
deck with her on impulse.

They spent the next hour playing Bridge in Walker's room,  
lounging on the snow-colored comforter on his bed. Walker and  
Jean-Luc beat Jack and Beverly twice, then lost twice and they  
called it a draw.

The couple retired soon afterwards, claiming fatigue. Neither  
Jean-Luc nor Walker believed them, but said good-night anyway, and  
Beverly surprised everyone by kissing Jean-Luc on the cheek.  
"It'll all turn out okay, Jean-Luc. I'm sure of it." He nodded  
and turned red to his ears. After they left, Walker and Jean-Luc  
played several hands of gin with Beverly's forgotten cards.

Finally, Jean-Luc spoke. "He still hates me."

"Jack? What for this time?"

"Father. He thinks I killed her by not being here."

"Maybe you did." Jean-Luc's head shot up; he'd gotten his  
attention. "Maybe forty years of arguments over whether you were  
going to be another Robert finally gave your mother a stroke."

"I didn't kill her!" he shouted as he threw his cards. Walker  
just sat and waited as he collected himself. "I didn't kill her,"  
he repeated, his voice softer. "I loved her."

"I know that. Your father does, too. He's hurting right now,  
and you're the easiest one to hurt back because he knows you'll  
leave again no matter what he says. You have to talk with him  
about this tomorrow. You'll feel better."

"You're probably right."

"Of course I'm right." Jean-Luc smiled.

"I really should be going now. I'm sure Aunt Adele is worried  
sick."

"Adele doesn't strike me as the kind of person to get worried  
sick, somehow."

"No, but I'd like to pretend she was. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Can you make it back okay?"

"I think so. It takes a more than a few sips of wine to make  
me tipsy. Especially when my well-meaning friends corral me into  
staying for an hour and a half afterwards."

"Good point. Good night, Jean-Luc."

"Good night Walker, and thank you." He left.

Walker wasn't sleepy yet. He lay out the cards in a far too  
familiar pattern of solitaire and began matching red to black to  
red. After a while, he heard familiar noises coming from the room  
next door.

It wouldn't be quite so bad, he thought, if he couldn't remember  
so clearly how her lips had tasted or how her eyes looked half-mad  
when ... He pushed the thoughts from his mind and bid the sounds  
from his ears. Instead, he tried to concentrate very hard on the cards.  
Black, red, black, red, and on the backs a rainbow pattern. The  
Queen of Hearts lay atop the King of Spades and the Jack of Clubs for  
her. Black, red, black, red, and white beneath the pictures that was all  
the colors together and none of the colors at all. The white was the  
color waiting to happen.

The sounds next door stopped for a few moments, then started again.

It was going to be a long night.

VVVVV

Jack woke with the sun. He felt Beverly warm against him and  
tried not to waken her. All things considered, it had been a  
wonderful evening for him, anyway. He had seen that Jean-Luc had  
needed to talk with them, but he could tell that he couldn't say  
whatever it was around Beverly. For some reason, Jean-Luc had  
always been slightly uncomfortable around her. He could never  
understand why. As far as he was concerned, they were the two most  
important people in the universe and he hated to see them not get  
along well.

Beverly stirred beside him and he smiled. Roaming around the  
galaxy with Jean-Luc was one of the greatest joys in his life, but  
it could not compare with waking up in the arms of the woman he  
loved. One of these days, Jean-Luc was going to find himself  
someone special and then he would understand. Jack couldn't wait  
for that day.

"Good morning," he whispered.

"Good morning. So what are we eating for breakfast?"

"Funny you should put it that way."

An hour later and much happier, they knocked on Walker's door  
to invite him to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. He dressed  
quickly and joined them. As they waited for their food, Walker  
stretched and cracked his neck.

"Are you okay?" asked Beverly.

"Oh I'm fine. Just didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

Jack dropped his spoon. After he retrieved it, he met Bev's eyes.

"Ummm ... Sorry."

They were saved from terminal embarrassment by the arrival of  
the eggs, toast and waffles. To his amusement, he noticed that his  
wife had a ravenous appetite this morning. When they went back to  
Walker's room, there was a message waiting for him to call Jean-  
Luc's home.

He called while they went back to their room to clean up.

When they returned, Walker was sitting on the edge of his bed.  
He looked up as they entered the room.

"Jean-Luc's father died last night in his sleep. Robert found  
him. They're going to go ahead with their mother's funeral today,  
and they'll bury their father the day after tomorrow. He said that  
he could see no one objecting to our attendance now."

Jack had not been told everything that had transpired the day  
before, but he had talked with Jean-Luc a hundred times about his  
father. "Did he get a chance to talk with him at all?" Walker  
shook his head.

So that was it. No last minute reconciliations, no deathbed  
confessions of love on either part. Just ... nothingness. When  
his own parents had died, he'd only been five, but he still  
remembered every detail as though it had been yesterday. It had  
hurt more than anything he'd ever experienced, and he'd at least  
had the chance to kiss them good-bye first and say the little I-  
love-you's before they went on their trip that had been far shorter  
than they had planned. Jean-Luc hadn't even been able to tell his  
parents good-bye. Although it was a bright morning, Jack felt rain  
inside of him, enough to wash away all of France.

VVVVV  
Chapter 5: And I Say Hello

"So what are you going to name him?" asked the doctor, whose  
name Beverly thought she should really know since she saw her  
nearly every day. Right now, though, she was very tired and very  
sore. She held the pink, squirming thing in her arms and realized  
that he smelled funny. He'd stopped crying in the few minutes that  
had passed between entering the world and being placed in her arms.  
That was good.

Oh yes. Dr. Rybarczyk. The good doctor was famous throughout  
Starfleet Medical for her planning strategies. How could she have  
forgotten? Probably had something to do with the smelly squirmy  
thing that needed a name. They had finally come down to two names  
each for a boy and a girl. So much for Jennifer or Isabel. She'd  
spent all night in this chair. Right now, she just wanted to take  
a long nap.

Jack said, "Can we put that off for a little while? We still  
haven't decided." Thank goodness for Jack. He could think of  
these little things right now. Of course, she'd done the hard  
part. In fact, during some of the hard part, she'd told him that  
the next time this happened, he'd be the one sitting in the  
birthing chair.

She tickled the baby's nose and his eyes opened. Okay, so he  
wasn't exactly cute. She'd assisted on enough deliveries to know  
that vaginal births rarely yielded beautiful babies. Their heads  
were soft, which helped them fit for the long slide out into the  
world, but they did not make for pretty pictures. She traced his  
right ear and then his left. He had cute ears, at least. It was  
a start.

"Can I hold him?" asked Jack, his voice very strange. She  
glanced up to see his eyes unnaturally bright, and realized that he  
was about to cry. She held up the baby for him. He lifted their  
child and held him close, stroking his face, his hands. She  
watched them together and something inside of her moved and came  
alive. That was her husband holding their baby. By accident,  
they'd managed to form a new little human from scattered bits of  
DNA and sweat in the darkness. Not bad, she thought. Not bad at  
all.

When she finally made it out of the birthing chair and down  
the hall to her room, Jack carried their son. When she lay down,  
she held him again for a long time. She began to get drowsy. Jack  
took the baby back and placed him in the room's crib, then sat down  
on her bed, holding her hand until she fell asleep.

She awoke.

There was a man with a pale white face, a painted-on smile and  
a large fuzzy red wig staring at her from about five centimeters  
away.

She screamed.

"Wait! Wait!" said the clown, in a familiar voice. "It's me,  
Honey. It's Jack." He pulled off the wig. Sure enough, it was  
her husband under the wig and makeup and floppy clothing. She  
relaxed minutely, still very unnerved. She looked behind him to  
see two clowns looking into the crib. This was not helping her  
nerves.

"Jack, please tell me I know those two."

"You'd better by this point," said one in Walker's voice. He  
seemed to be tickling the baby's chin.

The other one came over beside her and said in Jean-Luc's  
lovely accent, "Congratulations."

"Thank you." She turned to Jack, smiled sweetly, and said.  
"You have exactly ten seconds to explain before I kill you."

"I wanted to surprise you."

"You could have sent balloons."

"Balloons?" asked Walker. "The lady wants balloons?" He ran  
out into the hall and dragged about two dozen brightly-colored  
balloons into the room. Well, he attempted it, anyway. Several of  
them got stuck in the doorway. Beverly hid her face in her hands.

"You told me that you used to love clowns, that every time  
there was a circus, the clowns were your favorite part. I figured  
that you would probably be in a bad mood when you woke up, so I  
talked these two into dressing up with me."

"And they just happened to be in town."

"Almost," said Jean-Luc. "We had both arranged to be nearby,  
just in case ... " He didn't finish. Just in case anything went  
wrong, that she died or the baby died. They'd been through enough  
grief lately, first with Jean-Luc's parents, then with his aunt.  
And Dorian. She squeezed his hand.

"Thanks."

Jack said, "I called the grandparents. Everyone is about as  
pleased as expected. All three of them say they now feel old and  
why did we have to make then great-grandparents. Also, Nana  
expects a visit sometime before he starts kindergarten." He went  
over to get the baby, picked him up, and brought him back to the  
bed.

"Gotcha." She took her son and wondered how she was going to  
feed him with the other two in the room.

Walker called from the door, where he had managed to get most  
of the balloons free, "So have you picked a name yet?"

"No," said Jack. "We had it down to two girl's names and two  
boy's names."

"So what are the boys names?"

Jack looked flustered. They had intended for it to be a  
surprise. Then again, with recent events being what they were,  
maybe it was time to consider another name as well.

"Well," said Beverly, as nonchalantly as possible, "the boy's  
names are out too."

Jack looked at her. "Huh?"

She smiled the same sweet smile as before. "John Richard  
Crusher Junior, I love you dearly, but if you think I'm naming an  
innocent little baby after a pair of clowns, you have another thing  
coming."

Jean-Luc realized the implication immediately, but Walker just  
stared. "Your middle name is Richard?"

"Yeah," said Jack, "it's for my grandfather, Walker Elwood  
Keel."

"Walker was your grandfather?" asked Jean-Luc.

Beverly sighed. The three of them could be impossible when  
they were together. She tickled her son.

"What are we gonna name you?" Family names went through her  
head. Jack's father had been named John. Her father had been  
named Paul. Neither fit the little child she held.

Little Nameless shifted in her arms. They would have to pick  
something good. Nana had told her many times that names held  
meanings to them that could shape children for the rest of their  
lives. She hadn't been overly pleased with the thought, since from  
what she could gather, her own meant "field of beavers." When  
she'd pointed that out, Nana had laughed and told her that meant  
her strength came from the land, and that no matter where she went,  
she'd take that power with her. Then again, Nana always had been  
a little odd.

She looked at her husband again. "So are your grandparents  
going to grace us with a visit?"

He nodded. "Later this evening. We may want to come up with  
a name before they get here."

"Why don't you tell Nat you've named him Lucifer?" suggested  
Walker.

"It does mean 'light-bringer,'" she told Jack, with the  
innocent look that she had almost mastered.

Walker and Jean-Luc conveniently slipped out soon afterwards,  
leaving her time to give the baby his breakfast. Jack sat and  
watched the two of them. When the baby was done, he offered to  
burp him. Three minutes later, they discovered why spit-rags would  
become a permanent part of their lives.

As the hours went by, they went through names, coming back  
again and again to a few: Dorian James, for obvious reasons, Wesley  
Richard, for Jack's grandfather, and Michael Thomas, because she  
liked it. By dinnertime, they still hadn't decided.

Jack kissed her and went down to the hospital replimat to get  
something to bring back. Beverly watched the baby sleeping in his  
crib, which Jack had moved beside the bed. Well, Lucifer wasn't  
so bad of a name.

Someone beeped at the door. Damn. It was probably Nat and  
Rick already, and Jack was nowhere to be seen. "Come in," she  
said, uneasily.

Instead of her in-laws, a nurse came in with a tray. Oh.  
Dinner.

"Good evening," she said pleasantly. "The menu tonight  
features a lovely salad, followed by your entree."

"Which is?" Right now, she could really go for something  
unhealthy and fattening, preferably with a large helping of  
caffeine to go.

"Fish." Damn. "For dessert, strawberry-flavored gelatin.  
Meanwhile, the accompanying aperitif shall be Chateau de Moo, fresh  
from the nearest replicator." The nurse presented the tray with a  
flourish.

Beverly felt herself smiling. "You're enjoying this too much."

"I have to do something to liven up my job. Not all of us are  
going to be on starships." She grinned, then bent over the baby's  
crib. "Hello, stranger," she whispered. There was something about  
her that seemed very familiar, but she wasn't sure where she'd seen  
her before.

"What's your name? I don't think I've seen you around."

"Nurse Alicia Owens," she said, and laughed at something the  
baby did.

Owens. She knew she hadn't heard the name before, but she  
couldn't get over the feeling that she knew her. Maybe she had  
seen her in the hallway and not noticed. On impulse, she asked  
her, "Would you like to hold him?"

"Could I?" She nodded, and Owens picked up her son. Then she  
stood with him for a long moment, just watching him. He was wide  
awake, she realized, but he wasn't crying. He just watched the  
woman back. After a few minutes, she set him back down. "Thank  
you," she whispered.

Not knowing what else to say, she merely said, "Of course."

"I'm going off-duty now. Someone else will be by to take your  
tray. It was nice meeting you, Doctor." She glanced over at the  
crib, "And you as well, Wesley."

She was nearly out the door when Beverly realized what she'd  
said. "Wait!" She turned around. "We haven't picked a name for  
him yet. How did you ... " She couldn't finish.

Owens seemed put off-guard for half a second, then said, "He  
looks like a Wesley." She glided out the door before Beverly could  
ask her anything else. She sat for a moment, looking at the tray.  
Then she leaned over to watch her son. He had already fallen back  
asleep. It had been as though ...

Jack came in, and she lost the thought. He'd brought something  
marvelously unhealthy for them both, an Italian dish she'd first  
tasted in the Academy, covered in cheese and a thousand  
other things. The fish sat untouched. After they'd eaten, Jack  
had the gelatin for dessert, since strawberry was his favorite  
flavor. Beverly used the time to feed the baby again.

She held him carefully in her arms, positioning him just right  
for him to OW! latch on. Owens had said that he looked like a  
Wesley. It would make Jack's grandparents happy. Maybe they'd  
even start to like her. Maybe not.

"Jack, I think we should call him Wesley." Jack nodded.

"I'll tell the charge nurse."

"Tell Nurse Owens too if she hasn't left yet."

"Can do." He went out again to get the paperwork filled. She  
continued holding the baby. Wesley. The western field. She could  
get used to that.

The door beeped again. Maybe Owens had come back. She pulled  
Wesley off, then rearranged herself slightly before burping him.  
"Come in."

Her grandparents-in-law entered the room. She tried not to  
show the prickly feeling that immediately went though her. Nat  
Crusher always did that to her, although she could never say why.

"Congratulations!" said Rick, smiling broadly. He held a bouquet  
of roses, but seeing that she was occupied, set them on the table,  
then stood looking uneasy.

Nat stayed near the door, just watching.

"You can hold him, if you want," Beverly offered. The baby  
was the last thing she had to bridge the gap between them. She  
held him up towards the woman.

She edged near the bed, then carefully took the baby from her.  
After a moment, she began smiling. "Hello, kid. You have no idea  
what's in store for you."

"At least he picked the right day to be born," said Rick,  
looking at his wife.

She glanced up from the baby and her eyes widened as they met  
his. Beverly had the feeling that something very important had  
transpired, but she had no idea what was going on. She didn't like  
that feeling.

"His name's Wesley Richard," she said, hoping the significance  
would hit them. Where was Jack?

Oddly enough, neither of them seemed to be surprised. Nat  
just nodded and whispered, "I know."

This was too damned much. Did everyone know her kid's name  
before she did? She bit back the desire to tell them that the  
birth certificate was made out for Lucifer Crusher.

Jack came back in again, looking preoccupied. He smiled when  
he saw his grandparents, and hugged his grandfather quickly. His  
grandmother moved further into the room, and finally gave the baby  
back to Beverly. Her face was radiant, and for a moment, Beverly  
wondered what she had been like as a young woman.

"Honey," said Jack, "who did you want me to tell besides the  
charge nurse?"

"Owens. Alicia Owens. She's new, I think. About my height,  
brownish hair, light blue eyes."

"The charge nurse doesn't know her."

Somehow, considering the day's events, she was not surprised.  
In fact, she would not even be surprised to hear that no one in the  
hospital had ever heard of the woman. She mumbled something about  
maybe hearing the name wrong, but she knew she hadn't. First three  
clowns, then disappearing nurses and reappearing grandparents who  
all knew his name before she did.

"Kid," she said, "if things are this interesting on your first day, I'm  
half-scared to think what will happen when you're older."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nat and Rick share a  
look, but they never told her why.

VVVVV  
Chapter 6: New Orders

She picked up the PADD to read it again. Specific words  
jumped out at her: "New assignment. Promotion. Head of Starfleet  
Medical." She set it down on her desk and pushed it away from her,  
as if trying to push away the information for a little while  
longer.

She should be ecstatic, she knew. This was the opportunity  
she had longed for all her career. She would have the chance to  
help tens of thousands of people, with every ship's doctor, every  
starbase-bound medic, every intern in the Fleet Medical School  
under her command. She would finally be able to get back to her  
research, perhaps helping thousands more in the process, if her  
theories were proved correct.

Already, her mind raced with ideas for better efficiency in  
the distribution of new techniques and technology. She'd keep  
everyone on top of the current findings in new medical procedures  
from across the Federation. She'd seen too many cases already of  
patients dying because the attending physician hadn't heard of a  
simple drug developed in the next star system. It had happened to  
her more than once.

The new orders would let her become the Chief Medical Officer  
for the entire Federation. So why wasn't she happy?

VVVVV

He sat at his desk, reading the new orders. He knew that he  
shouldn't be surprised. Starfleet had a habit of selecting only  
its finest to place into positions of authority, and she was surely  
at the top of her field. The irony of it all was that it was  
probably his own fault. He'd certainly been lavish enough with his  
praise on the last few crew evaluations, especially considering  
recent events. Hell, the surprising part was that Starfleet hadn't  
stolen away his whole Senior Staff! He checked off a mental list:  
Geordi had just been promoted, Worf had been promoted a few weeks  
back, and now it was Beverly's turn.

But the only way for Beverly to advance upwards was for her to  
leave the ship.

She would decline of course. She would stay on board the  
_Enterprise_ and things would go on as normal. Then again, things  
hadn't been normal for some time. First, they'd lost Tasha to that  
creature Armus, then practically days later, they'd lost Walker to  
people whom they'd trusted with more than their lives.

He shrugged off the brief pain that flashed through him. No  
use becoming weepy at the thought of dead friends. Still, his  
throat had an unaccustomed tightness to it that his slowly-cooling  
tea would not dispel.

She would be mad to turn it down. She would spring at the  
opportunity to get away from here, where the ghosts of the past  
rested uneasily among them. She would take Wesley as far from  
there as she could, trying to protect him from something none of  
them could ever truly escape. She would immerse herself in books  
and articles and administrivia of all sorts, and she would bring  
healing to people who'd had no chance before. And she would be  
happy.

So why wasn't he happy for her?

VVVVV

The going-away party was in the newly-renovated Ten-Forward.  
Supposedly, they'd be picking up a hostess at the next starbase,  
but for now, drinks were self-serve. The synthehol flowed freely  
as everyone toasted the imminent departure of the good Doctor.  
Beverly found herself surrounded by semi-friends and well-wishers,  
telling her that she would do just fine, that they were proud for  
having served with her, that they would miss her. She smiled and  
thanked each one in turn, pausing to open the occasional gifts they  
brought, little tokens of esteem that she would have to find room  
for in her already-packed belongings.

As the room finally cleared, she noticed a specific group of  
lag-behinds, none of whom had approached her to wish her good-bye.  
She also noted two significant absentees among them, but would not  
acknowledge the twinge she felt inside, grief for one but another,  
less definite feeling for the other.

Then the bar was empty but for the seven of them, silently  
staring into their drinks, the floor, the scenery outside in a  
passing gas cloud, anything but one another. To acknowledge their  
own presence would be to also acknowledge that the Captain had not  
seen fit to show up, and that Tasha would not be showing up for  
anything as maudlin as a going-away party ever again. Neither will  
Walker, she thought, and an image of her dear friend, occasionally  
over-protective big brother figure, and once upon a time, something  
far closer, sprang into her mind and stayed there.

Data broke the stillness. "Well, Doc," he said in a faux-  
Chicago accent, "we're gonna miss you and da kid."

"Thanks, Data," said Wes.

In a crazy spell that would have made Babel proud, they all  
began speaking at once. She found herself laughing with Deanna  
over the Dinner Party from Hell, when the younger woman had thought  
she was going to get married, while Will was once again attempting  
to entertain everyone with the latest jokes he'd picked up on some  
planet called Risa. The silence fled to the far corners of the  
room and stayed there.

The party continued to well past what once would have been  
called midnight.

VVVVV

He was still awake reading in his cabin when the door chimed.  
He wondered who it could be, but not really. There was only one  
person who would think of calling on him so late at night.

"Come." The door whooshed open and she walked into the near-  
dark room, illuminated only by his reading lamp.

She looked pensive, as if trying to find the right words to  
say. Finally, she settled on simply "Hi."

"Good evening, Doctor." Ouch! That had sounded cold even to  
his own ears. "Won't you sit down?" She nodded, taking a near  
chair.

"You didn't show up at the party." It was neither a question  
nor an accusation, merely a statement of fact.

"You know I don't like large gatherings."

"I know."

Perhaps the silence had followed her in, for suddenly it  
surrounded them. They sat for several minutes, he trying to think  
of something else, anything else.

"I'm sure you will do well in your assignment. It will be a  
great opportunity for you."

She nodded. "Yes. I'm sure it will." She took a deep  
breath, and he held his, realizing the moment had come for whatever  
was to be. She stood up and extended her hand. "It's been a  
pleasure serving with you, sir."

For a moment, he could not respond. Was it to end like this,  
then? Shake hands, move on, never look back. He stood, took her  
hand and shook it firmly. "Likewise, Doctor."

She nodded again, and turned to leave, this time for good.  
She was nearly to the door when he found the words.

"Beverly?" She stopped and faced him.

"Yes?"

The moment hung between them for a small eternity.

"New orders: take care of yourself. You have to be alive and  
well when you come back to visit."

She smiled. "Aye, Captain." She left. It was only minutes  
later that he realized there would probably be quite a stir had  
anyone seen her leave his quarters so late at night. Let them talk  
if they wanted. It was not as if they had done anything.

He looked at his book again, then walked to the window, where  
the stars streaked by. For an idle moment, he allowed himself to  
return to his childhood. "Star light, star bright," he whispered.

"I wish ..."

VVVVV

She hugged Wes and stepped onto the transporter pad. "I'll  
see you in a few weeks. Try to stay out of trouble, okay?"

"I'll try." He glanced around the room for a moment. "You  
know, if you want to stay a few more minutes ... "

"No. I have to get going." She bent down and kissed his  
forehead. He blushed, then waved. She motioned back as the  
transporter beam shimmered her vision of him away. As she felt her  
old world disappearing around her and her new own taking shape, she  
thought quietly, "I wish ... "

VVVVV

"Dr. Pulaski's shuttle has cleared the bay," said Data from  
Ops, emotionless as ever. That was just as well. She would rejoin  
the _Repulse_ in a matter of minutes, and she would be happy. He  
sat back in the Command Chair, and decided that he was happy for  
her. She had never seemed quite at home with the _Enterprise_'s  
crew. Now she could be back with her own little space-family and  
more power to her for it.

The newest member of the crew would be arriving via  
transporter as the latest Doctor left the ship. He had recently  
overheard Riker commenting that the position of Chief Medical  
Officer on the _Enterprise_ was a giant revolving door. Not that  
he didn't agree. Here they were, still a month shy of two years  
from Spacedock, and already receiving their third CMO. Hell, he  
didn't even know anything about this one. Starfleet Command had  
simply told him someone would arrive shortly complete with  
paperwork in tow, along with a guest scientist by the name of  
Stubbs.

Data spoke again. "All new personnel are safely on board."

"Very good. Number One, do you see any reason why we should  
tarry longer?"

"None, sir."

"In that case, relay my regards to Captain Taggert. Mr.  
Crusher, lay in a course for the Kavis Alpha sector, warp 6.  
Engage."

As he spoke, he heard the turbolift doors open behind him. He  
thought nothing of it, until Riker turned around and stared. Soon  
after, Data did much the same, while Wesley looked behind him and  
smiled brightly.

The he heard her voice.

"Chief Medical Officer reporting for duty, Captain." She  
walked down the long slope of the Bridge to stand in front of him.  
Carefully, she held out a PADD for his perusal. "My new orders,  
Sir."

He glanced at it, not really reading but merely staring at the  
letters until he realized he should say something. He looked up  
into those soft blue eyes, and he saw only happiness in them. He  
stood.

"Welcome aboard, Doctor." He offered her his hand. He barely  
resisted the urge to turn it into a hug. And welcome home, he  
thought, but could not say.

"Thank you, Sir." Her face had broken into a wide grin.  
"Request permission to hug the helmsman."

He paused; for a second, he had heard the word "captain"  
instead. "Granted."

When she had said hello to everyone, she took her seat on the  
other side of Riker, regaling them with tales of some of her  
adventures back on Earth. He watched her as she spoke, secretly  
rejoicing in her voice, her gestures and wondering how he'd  
possibly managed to survive the past year without her.

She left the Bridge before the shift ended, needing to "see  
what that woman has done to my Sickbay." He kept his smile to  
himself as he watched her leave, knowing that she would be there  
when he went to her quarters later that evening to talk.

He turned to see Deanna watching him, but she said nothing,  
merely nodded before she looked away towards the viewscreen to gaze  
at the stars moving past them.

VVVVV

They took a standard orbit around the planet. After coming so  
near, it wouldn't have been right not to send a team down there. At  
least, that was what he told himself. In actuality, he needed to go.  
He had to see for himself the dead climate, the ruins that were probably  
no longer there anyway. He put on his protective suit alone and  
clumsily, his fingers unused to working the various zippers and switches  
and fittings that were involved in exploring a world with so little  
breathable atmosphere.

His fingers fumbled again as he remembered, or thought he  
remembered, a time when the land was green, when the hills were  
filled with vegetation and the towns teeming with life. His eyes  
blurred, and he wiped the stranger's tears away from them. His  
life, but not his life. His children, but people he had never  
known. His wife ...

"Data to Captain," came the voice from his communicator. he  
tried to think. Yes! He tapped the button on his jacket.

"Go ahead."

"The Away team is in the transporter room waiting as per your  
orders, Sir." He smiled. He did remember that of Data: he  
wouldn't say 'Captain, you're dawdling;' he'd merely state a  
fact.

"Very good. I'll be there shortly."

He finished his dressing, wondering what would become of him  
when he set foot on Kataan again.

VVVVV

It was very different from what he remembered. The sky was  
much darker, even with the cooling lump of sun high above them.  
The ground was covered in fine sand that had been devoid of  
anaerobic bacterial life for a thousand years. For him, the  
thousand years had passed as an eyeblink, a quick gasp in the night  
between Then and Now, but so long as to be uncrossable ever again.

The rest of the Away Team moved away from him so as to give  
him an illusion of privacy.

They had beamed to the relative location of where he thought  
Ressik would be. It might very well have been, although there was  
no way for him to tell now. There were lumps in the soil, which  
might have hidden the shells of ancient buildings beneath the  
ravages of the years. He could not tell.

The Federation Archaeology Council had contacted him about  
making a survey of the plant to look for clues into the lives of  
these people. He already knew about the lives of these people,  
better than any archaeologist could discover from bits of trash and  
pieces of pottery. He knew it better than he knew himself.

He wondered how the end had come for them, and when, and if  
they had suffered at all. Meribor and Batai might have lived to  
old age, but there was no way Kamie would have, nor the child  
Batai's wife had been carrying. He hoped it had been quick, a kind  
nova to kill them fast, not leaving them to slowly die of  
dehydration.

He realized that he was actually wishing for the deaths of his  
grandchildren, and shuddered inside his suit.

It was becoming easier to remember things from his first life,  
the one on the _Enterprise_ that he had returned to so  
unexpectedly. That made his readjustment to his world easier, but  
it also meant that he was beginning to lose some of the immediacy  
of Kamin's memories. He didn't want that to happen, not yet. He  
was still getting used to the idea of never seeing Meribor or Batai  
again.

He knelt down and took a handful of the dead soil, let it fall  
through his fingers. Their bodies were a part of this land, but no  
more a part of the circle of living things. There were no more  
living things, save the Away Team, and when they left, there would  
be nothing left.

He saw Worf, uncomfortable in his own suit, keeping a careful  
watch on him, and stood up. No use getting him worried.

The sun, such as it was, cast his feeble shadow onto the  
ground. Here lies a people, too young to escape to the stars, too  
old to be ignorant of that fact. They had known they would die, at  
least some of them. Meribor had known. He, or perhaps Kamin, had  
given her something to keep in the cabinets, something that would  
put her family into a deep sleep from which they would never  
awaken. It was preferable to starvation. He wondered if she'd  
used it.

The team was gathering. He walked back towards them, wanting  
to linger here, but also knowing that he could not stay ever again.  
The paradoxes that ruled his life washed over him. Time to go  
wandering again, just like Adele, always searching for that one  
place, that one person, that one bright thing that would make him  
stay forever. On this world, he'd had it in his hands, but it had  
slipped away like the sand that covered everything now. He could  
have died happy here, and he somehow knew that Kamin had died  
happy, and that his children had set him to rest beside his beloved  
Eline.

Her sweet face had been the last he'd seen in his memory, to  
be replaced with another face that was as familiar and beautiful  
and loved as hers, and at the same time, was as impossible to hold  
on to in his thoughts. He'd seen that face before him a thousand  
times in Kamin's life, reminding him that there was another life,  
another place. Eventually, he'd dismissed the thought as just an  
idle dream, but the face lingered in his thoughts when he rocked  
the children to sleep, or played his flute, or after he'd made love  
with Eline.

He remembered Eline's face again, how joyful it had been, and  
how bright. He couldn't remember anything quite so wondrous as  
that radiant look, all for him. Always. And now, never.

An ache settled around his heart as the transporter pulled him  
back to his new-old home, and it did not go away for a very long  
time.

VVVVV

The clothes the Cardassian guard had given him did not fit  
correctly, and they itched in the wrong places. He shifted around  
as he walked, trying to ignore it. He had a pressing need not to  
scratch himself in front of his captors. He'd already been  
tortured both physically and mentally by a ruthless Gul who wanted  
nothing less than his soul. Somehow, he had survived. Somehow, he  
had not been broken by the agony, nor by the silky voice that dug  
deep into his skull asking him what seemed to be such a simple  
question. He'd been stripped of his clothing and his identity and  
subjected to the worst humiliations he could endure. But he was  
not going to scratch himself in public.

He and his accompanying guards walked into the ship's  
transporter room and stopped. The guard removed the shackles that  
had bound his hands during the trip, and he rubbed his wrists to  
get the circulation back.

"What are the coordinates?" asked the transporter chief.

Home, he thought. I'm going home. His mind filled with  
images of his beloved ship and the people who called it home: Will  
telling a joke on the Bridge, with Deanna smiling and Worf looking  
unimpressed; Ten Forward, with Guinan listening to Data attempt to  
do the same, with Geordi wincing at the results; his own quarters,  
sharing breakfast and ship's gossip with Beverly.

He frowned. Madred had told him that Worf was dead, that they  
had captured Beverly but that she had not been harmed. Yet. When  
he'd said that, Picard's heart had frozen. He was lying. Of  
course he was lying. He had to be. And if he was not? He hadn't  
been able to take that chance. He had gone back, knowing that he  
never would have been permitted to leave anyway and hating himself  
for not trying.

Now he found himself wondering again. Madred had lied to him  
about so many things, but what if this one had been true? He had  
to see them both, just to be certain. He grew impatient with the  
transporter chief. Why was this taking so long?

The guard nodded, then indicated the pad. He had a sudden  
memory of Ambassador T'Pel, who, as it turned out, had not been  
T'Pel at all. The Cardassians were going to pretend to beam him  
back to his ship, then claim he'd died during transport and take  
him back to that room. Perhaps they'd just beam him into space and  
be done with him.

The door slid open again, and he closed his eyes, willing the  
transport to begin now, before they could change their minds and  
take him back.

"Human," said the voice. He opened his eyes. Madred stood  
before him, smiling viciously. He tried not to shudder. "You  
haven't won, you know. I will have you back in that room with me,  
and you will find that it will not be half so easy to leave again.  
Remember who I have." He kept his mouth tightly closed, not  
betraying anything. He's lying, his mind screamed at him, just  
like the lights. "Goodbye, human." Madred nodded towards the  
transporter chief.

He felt the room shimmer and disappear around him, prepared to  
feel the dead-cold vacuum before his chest exploded. The world  
changed, and he saw a new place materialize before him. A familiar  
place. He was in the transporter room of the _Enterprise_. Home.

Now the faces before him came clear: Geordi at the controls,  
Will and Deanna waiting for him, along with two security guards, no  
doubt in case the Cardassians had sent along a little surprise with  
him. No one else. He went dead inside.

"Captain," said Deanna, smiling warmly and coming towards him,  
her arms out. He stepped down from the pad and placed his hand on  
her shoulder, saying nothing, but watching her eyes. She nodded;  
she'd understood. They would need to talk later, a great deal.

"Welcome home, Sir," said LaForge. "We've missed you."

He smiled back, "Not nearly as much as I've missed all of  
you."

"We'd feared the worst," Riker said, "especially after Beverly  
and Worf gave their reports."

His head shot up. "They're all right?" he managed to breathe.

Deanna touched his arm. "They're fine." He felt a weight  
release from his chest. It was replaced with another one.

"Where are they?"

Riker shifted. "Worf is on the Bridge. I imagine Beverly's  
in Sickbay, waiting for us to bring you." So they were both at  
their posts. Neither of them had wanted to see his homecoming, or  
had cared that he might be worried about them. Something began to  
boil deep inside him.

"Captain ... " said Deanna, no doubt sensing his growing anger.

He took a breath. He was being foolish, he realized. Not  
everyone could be there to greet him. Data hadn't show up either,  
and was probably on the Bridge with Worf. He relaxed inside, and  
nodded at Deanna. They would definitely need to have a long talk.

"I'll go eventually. Right now, I'd like to get my uniform on  
and my ship back." He rubbed his chin. "A shave would no doubt be  
in order, as well." Riker and Geordi smiled, but Deanna kept her  
concerned look.

He chose to ignore it.

VVVVV

Beverly had not been in Sickbay when he had gone there after  
his debriefing. Instead, he found himself being treated by one of  
her innumerable staff with the assistance of the omnipresent Nurse  
Ogawa. They had healed the scar on his chest easily, making him  
look as though nothing had happened. The Cardassians had  
thoughtfully removed the device from his chest before his release,  
although he felt certain it was less from humanitarian reasons than  
from the fear of letting Cardassian technology come under  
Federation scrutiny.

He had been pronounced healthy by the attending physician; the  
device had left no permanent damage. Physically.

He had gone right to the Bridge afterwards, thinking it was  
time to get his ship back. When Jellico was relieved, he took Troi  
into his Ready Room.

He'd talked for three hours.

She had waited, listening to him, not judging him but merely  
being there. He had managed to tell her about the lights. That  
had been difficult. Talking to her about it was almost as painful  
as reliving it. He could still hear Madred's voice in his ears,  
and that made it all the worse. He came close to tears several  
times.

There was only one aspect of his ordeal that he hadn't shared  
with her. He couldn't find the right words, and he knew that when  
he did, it would not be for her ears. He had included in his  
report that the Gul had claimed to have killed Worf, but he  
couldn't bring himself to tell the other part of the lie.

When he had finished, she'd spoken to him, reminding him that  
he had been the victim, that he had the right to feel hurt and  
angry and that these were healthy emotions. He hadn't felt  
healthy. He had felt sick.

Then again, he thought, what better to place to go when one  
was feeling sick, but Sickbay?

He stood in the doorway to her office, unable to go in or to  
leave. He watched her working at her desk, observed her  
concentrating on the data pad in front of her. It was true. She  
was alive and well. Even after what Troi had told him, he'd been  
afraid, wondering if she too were lying to him. Why else would  
Beverly not have been in Sickbay to treat him? Yet, here she was  
before him, perfectly fine, and working as if nothing had happened.

The surrounding room was darkened, and he had a peculiar  
feeling, remembering another time he had come to her office door.  
He'd offered her a transfer, and she had pointedly declined.

She looked up from her data pad and frowned.

"Jean-Luc ... " She stood up quickly, then looked uncertain,  
as if not sure whether to run and hide or go to him and hold him.  
She did neither, merely stood beside her chair.

"I ... " He stopped. A thousand thoughts ran through him all  
at once. I needed to see if you were all right. I wanted to say  
hello. He told me that he had you. "Why weren't you there  
earlier?"

She bit her lip, and he saw that she was gripping her chair  
too tightly. "I didn't think you wanted to see me."

"What are you talking about?"

Her voice shook. "Dammit, Jean-Luc. We left you. We tried  
to find you, stayed later than we should have, but we had to go."  
She met his eyes. "I had to give the order. Worf never would have  
left while he thought you were still alive. I don't think he's  
spoken more than a sentence to me since. I thought that you would  
probably feel the same way."

He said nothing for a long while. He still needed to speak  
with Worf, to tell him that what had happened was no one's fault.  
First, though, he needed to convince Beverly of that.

"I thought you were both dead. He wanted me to believe that,  
and I did." It was only half a lie. If he told her what Madred  
had really said, it would only hurt her more.

"We thought the same about you."

He took the opening. "Then perhaps we should be glad that  
none of us are dead, and get on with living." He moved closer to  
her, but she backed away, just slightly.

"I don't know if I can."

"I know. You can, and so can I. It wasn't your fault,  
Beverly. He set the trap specifically for me. You couldn't have  
known."

She sat down at her terminal. "I should have."

She went back to her work, and when he realized that she was  
not going to say anything else, he turned around and walked away.

He was almost out the door when he knew that he could not  
leave, not like this. He walked back into her office.

"As of now, there is a new standing order on this ship."

She looked up.

"No one on the _Enterprise_ under the rank of Captain is  
permitted to wallow in regret. Is that understood, Doctor?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes, Captain."

"Good. I take it you'll be joining me for breakfast tomorrow,  
then."

"Depends. Is that another new standing order?"

"What do you mean 'new'? It's always been a standing order on  
the ship that the CMO have breakfast with the Captain."

"Oh really? I'll have to ask Kate what the two of you  
discussed every morning." She was smiling as she said it.

"Do you really want to know?"

She crossed her arms in front of her. "Yes. I do."

He leaned over her desk and whispered. Her eyes grew wide and  
she stared at him.

"Seriously?"

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"Yes."

"Do you think I'm lying now?"

"I'm not sure."

"Then I guess you'll simply have to come over for breakfast  
tomorrow to find out."

"I suppose I have to. Wouldn't want to violate orders, after all."

He had the briefest urge to test how far other new orders  
might take him, then immediately thought better of it. There were  
words for captains who did that, and besides, this was Jack's wife  
he was considering ...

He stood up and straightened his jacket. "I'll see you  
tomorrow, then." He turned to escape, and he felt her eyes on his  
back, laughing gently as he walked out of her office and back into  
her life.

VVVVV  
Chapter 7: A Time ...

A cool wind blew through him as he stood alone on the  
mountaintop. Kirk's mountain, he thought. That's what they would  
call it. People would come from across the quadrant to see the  
final resting place of the most famous captain in Starfleet  
history. They would come in starships and shuttles, bringing their  
children to see the mountain where he died. Teachers would tell  
their students about how Kirk saved the galaxy one last time,  
perhaps even bring them on field trips. Here lies the hero, atop  
a hill. Assuming that he told them, of course.

It had taken him hours to carry the body up to the top, where  
the sun would shine on the grave all day and the stars keep watch  
by night. He'd carefully gathered the rocks for the cairn and set  
each one with a memory of the man that was not his own. Instead,  
he saw half-constructed visions from the memories of two Vulcans  
who had known the man better than he could have dreamed. With this  
stone, he thought of a meeting a century old between Kirk and the  
man who was to be his Science Officer. With the next, he stood  
impassively on the cliff of another mountain on a different world,  
watching Kirk and other not-quite familiar faces prepare for a  
voyage home.

It had been well past mid-day when he had finished. Only when  
his work was completed did he realize that he was alone. No  
transporter whine had reached his ears, no distant voice from the  
valley had shouted to him. Lursa and B'Etor had not come for him  
to be their prisoner, nor had Will sent out a search party.

Another breeze reminded him of how cold he would be when dark  
came. He had to find some way to keep warm, be it to find shelter  
or build a fire or preferably both. When day returned, he could  
think about finding a way off the empty planet. He had too much  
unfinished business to stay much longer.

He looked down at the grave one final time. He knew that he  
should say something appropriate, but there would be no one to hear  
save himself. And the coming night.

He offered a short, crisp salute to the cairn, then made his  
way down the mountain.

To the south, or at least, what he thought was the south, he  
saw trees in a vast wood. No doubt, there were equally vast  
creatures in there, waiting for a tasty snack. It might provide a  
good cover, though.

Eastward, the path was rockier, but he saw another forest,  
perhaps five miles away. If he went that way, he could also look  
for a cave or someplace else to spend the night. Hell, he could  
walk all night if he really wanted to keep warm. For the first  
time in years, he thought back to another cold night when he'd  
walked all night long in an alien fog, half-dragging a stranger who  
would become one of the two best friends he'd ever had. Three, he  
amended.

He did need to get back aboard the _Enterprise_.

He walked east, away from the setting sun.

As he walked, he thought back to the madness of the past few  
days. Had it been so short a time since Worf's promotion party?  
He'd scarcely been able to breathe from that point onwards. Time  
had flown so quickly.

Time. Now there was a laugh. How much time had he spent in  
that Nexus? Kirk had been there for decades, but had barely  
noticed. How many fantasies had he lived before the one that  
whispered to him that all was not well? Had he dreamed of other  
places, other loves? Had there perhaps been an unremembered  
lifetime spent looking into the face, not of that dream-woman from  
his most recent fantasy, but of someone far more near and precious  
to him? If so, maybe he'd had good cause not to want to leave  
beforehand. Time had no meaning there. He wondered if Wesley's  
new life would be at all similar, and felt the briefest twinge of  
envy that faded with the next thought.

He could have chosen any time to exit the Nexus. He could  
have come back in time to prevent at all. He could have been in  
Labarre in time to stop the fire before ...

He pushed away that thought immediately. The pain was too  
new, too raw. He couldn't deal with it yet. In the morning,  
perhaps, but not now.

Time of another sort was slipping away from him. He guessed  
that he might have an hour of sunlight left. He stopped to get his  
bearings. The forest was only about half a mile further. He could  
at least gather some firewood. He'd passed a small enclosure in  
the rocks about five minutes previously that would do as a place to  
spend the night. Given his options, it sounded pretty good.

He made his way to the edge of the woods relatively quickly  
and began hunting for dry timber. Maybe he could light the damned  
thing this time. He gathered up a large armful of branches and  
twigs and was about to make his way back when he heard the noise.

A small, primal part of him immediately told him that the  
tigers were on the hunt tonight. Fortunately, his common sense  
remained in control as he strained to hear it again. There! It  
was a low rumble, like muted thunder in a wind tunnel. Or a  
shuttle on a planet's surface. It sounded as if it were coming  
through the forest itself.

He paused. He could be imagining things. He'd certainly been  
through enough shocks recently to warrant a hopeful hallucination  
or five. The rational part of his mind told him that he should go  
back to the enclosure with his firewood, build the damned fire, and  
investigate in the morning. The primal part of his mind said that  
was a wise thing to do, as the tigers were getting closer. There  
was however, a third part of him, which had seen a great deal of  
ache lately and just wanted to go home.

He dropped the sticks and headed into the woods.

As night drew closer, he began to regret the decision. He'd  
heard nothing else since those first few rumblings. Whatever it  
was, it was probably gone by this point and there was no way he  
could find his way back before sunset.

Suddenly, he realized how truly alone he was. If the crew  
thought he was dead, perhaps killed in the explosion with Soran ...  
No. They still would have come looking for him, if only to find  
his body. There had already been too many cases of the reports of  
his death being exaggerated. The only advantage to his supposed  
"deaths" was the reputation he was getting. At this rate, he'd  
never die. Then again, they'd said the same of the man he'd just  
buried.

Why hadn't they come, then? The Klingons. He shuddered, a  
premonition sweeping through him with a force unlike anything he'd  
ever before experienced. The Duras sisters had been in orbit with  
them. If they had grown bold and attacked, they would have the  
advantage of surprise on their side. Then he remembered their  
ship. They had been outgunned and outclassed, and they knew it.  
They wouldn't have attacked unless they were confident of winning.

But Soran had been working on a powerful weapon. They could  
have used it against the _Enterprise_. In his thoughts, he saw the  
battle unfold, saw the Bird of Prey line up his beauty in their  
sights. He saw his ship fill the sky with fire, her crew's  
lifeblood boiling as it froze in the depths of an endless night.

Damn it! He had to stop thinking like this. He had to find  
out what that noise had been, even as a tiny frightened voice  
inside him gibbered and whispered how that was precisely what had  
happened and now the sisters had left him there in revenge to live  
alone forever and ever until he went mad.

The ground trembled beneath him, not much, but enough, as the  
soft thunder came back to his ears. Then, he heard the uplifting  
whoosh of a shuttle zipping through atmosphere. It wasn't much  
further ahead, either.

Heedless of the branches whipping at him now, he ran through  
the woods, nearly tripping on roots in his path. It was an ancient  
forest though; there was little undergrowth to block his way.  
Almost there!

Now he heard voices, very far away. He couldn't tell if they  
were human, Klingon, or Romulan, and at this point, he didn't care  
much. Data had said that the planet was uninhabited, which meant  
that the voices ahead belonged to someone with warp capability.  
Preferably someone in a Starfleet uniform.

He saw more light in front of him: the woods were opening onto  
a clearing. He slowed down and walked the last fifty meters,  
carefully listening. He still could not make out the words.

The forest ended abruptly. He found himself on a rock  
outcropping, looking over a shallow valley that had not been there  
before, he was quite certain. In the middle of it, half-buried  
beneath the ground it had obviously dug up in its path, lay the  
thing he least expected to find on an uninhabited planet in the  
middle of a forest.

He stared, unbelieving, at the saucer section of his ship.  
With a loving eye, he picked out the name, just visible in the  
dying light, read the registry number at least ten times before he  
knew that it was truly the _Enterprise_. There were dark scars  
along the sides, as if she'd seen battle. For a brief moment, all  
was still, and he wondered if everyone had indeed died in the  
crash, leaving only a ghost ship to decay on the young world.

A shuttle, he couldn't see which one, flew by him, and then  
someone crawled out of what had once been the window at the top of  
the Bridge. Oh well. He'd never much cared for that window  
anyway. Something about it bothered him, though.

Then he noticed that the person coming out was dragging  
something. Another person followed behind the object. With a sick  
feeling, he realized they were carrying a body, much as he had done  
not so long ago. Members of his crew had died and he had not been  
there to save them. Quietly, he sat down on his overlook and  
wondered how he was ever going to explain this one to Starfleet.

He watched five more bodies come out of the ship and be  
carefully taken into a shuttle. That was actually a good idea, he  
mused. The shuttles had their own environmental controls and could  
keep the bodies in stasis until better accommodations arrived. He  
knew he should go help, but he couldn't. Not yet.

He stood up. He couldn't stay sitting forever. He needed to  
tell someone, anyone, that he was alive and well. He also needed  
to find Will and get a full report of what had happened. Then he  
needed to find out how many members of his crew wouldn't be going  
home to their families.

The Bridge window. The Bridge window was broken. If it had  
happened during the battle, everyone who'd been on the Bridge would  
have been sucked out, or as Data would no doubt have corrected him,  
blown out into space. Data would have been on the Bridge, as would  
Will and Deanna and Worf. The stardrive section was nowhere to be  
seen. Had Geordi been on it when they'd separated? Where was it  
now, and why had it separated in the first place? He had to find  
out.

Beverly would at least have been safe. Sickbay was in the  
heart of the ship, and well-protected. Except sometimes she spent  
time on the Bridge. But it was a crisis. She would have been in  
Sickbay. She'd be fine. She had to be fine. He refused to even  
consider the alternative. After all he'd lost, he could not face  
the thought of losing her, too.

In the past year, they had grown both closer and more distant  
than he had thought possible. There were times he was certain that  
all she wanted was to drive him to distraction for her own personal  
amusement. Other times, more frequently since his latest  
experience with Q, he'd seen a welcoming look in her eyes, as  
though she were willing him to take just one more step towards  
forever. But then it was his turn to be still, to find the safer  
conversation, to make the excuse to leave before dinner extended  
into breakfast.

He'd told them about his time-traveling experience in order to  
avoid the rifts he'd seen among his friends, while watching himself  
cause one by his own damned inaction. If anything happened to her  
or to any of them before he'd had a chance to find the words, he  
wouldn't be able to live with himself.

He had to find them. Now.

He clambered down the bank and went quickly to the nearest  
group of people he could see. Engineers, by the looks of it. Four  
of them stood in a tight knot, looking at the innards of one of the  
shuttles. They chattered in technospeak, of which he knew about  
enough to get around the engine room, but not enough to hold a long  
conversation about warp coils. They did not notice his approach,  
but continued working.

He cleared his throat. One of them looked around, and his  
eyes went wide. "Captain!" The others turned quickly, trying to  
make an attempt at decorum. With some concealed joy, he realized  
that he recognized two of them: a Vulcan man whose name he could  
not quite recall but knew at sight, and a human woman whom he'd  
become somewhat fond of in the last two years or so.

"At ease. Lieutenant Lefler, would you please tell me what  
happened to my ship?"

She looked puzzled. "Sir?"

Then he realized that everything had probably happened so fast  
that not even ship's rumor, known to be the only thing in the  
universe that could travel past Warp 10, had reached Engineering  
yet. "I wasn't aboard during the crash. The last I checked, we  
were in orbit staring down a Klingon Bird of Prey."

"So that's what happened," said another engineer quietly.

Lefler explained. "I'd heard about the Klingons. All I know  
is that one minute, everything was fine, and the next, every panel  
on Deck 36 was sparking. Before we could even think about repairs,  
the coolant began leaking. We barely got onto the saucer section  
before the warp core breached." He saw the shock still in her  
eyes, but could offer nothing to console her.

"Did everyone make it out of the stardrive section?"

"As far as I know. Commander LaForge was maybe five meters  
behind me, and he said that he was the last one out." He nodded,  
not knowing what to say. So Geordi had at least survived the  
explosion. That was good news.

"And then?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Something went wrong. The last  
thing I heard, Commander Riker told all hands to brace for impact.  
I thought maybe we were going to hit the Klingons or something.  
When we touched down ... " She stopped.

The others had matching looks on their faces. He could almost  
hear the scream of the twisting metal beneath them, as they tore  
into the waiting dirt. "I understand." He paused a moment. "Do  
you know how many casualties there are?"

She shook her head. "I know of at least seven. I've heard as  
many as fifty. Most of those are just missing, I think. It's  
kinda crazy right now. We've been trying to get together by  
department and count that way, but some of the department heads are  
missing, too."

He barely resisted the urge to ask which departments. "I  
see."

She must have seen his thinly-guised concern. "Sir, you're  
officially among the missing, and you seem to be alive. I'm sure  
everyone else will turn up eventually." But she had not told him  
who was and was not missing.

"Of course. I should locate Commander Riker and let him know  
that I'd like my ship back. In whatever condition it may be."  
Although he knew it wasn't captainly, he squeezed her arm, offering  
whatever reassurance he could. She smiled in return, then went  
back to fixing the shuttle for transport off the planet.

It was almost dark now. He noticed that various teams working  
on the ship were slowly gathering around it. Some were lighting  
campfires while others scurried around for rations. He kept an eye  
out for his staff, but as yet had seen none of them. He told  
himself that they were probably organizing the cleanup and rescue  
attempts, that Will had already used one of the shuttles'  
communications systems to contact the nearest Federation outpost  
and was probably hunting for rations of his own for dinner with the  
rest of their friends.

He passed a group of about thirty children being watched by  
one harried-looking teacher. He went to them, thinking to be of  
help. The man looked up and smiled briefly before picking up  
another of his crying charges.

Some of the children saw him and ran to him. Almost  
instinctively, he kneeled down to their level. The tiny faces  
gazed at him, frightened. With a sick feeling, he realized that  
most of them had probably not found their parents yet.

He put on his best smile. "Hello, children." A few smiled,  
but none spoke. One of the smaller ones started to cry. Barely  
even thinking about it, he lifted the child into his arms.

"There now, it'll be all right." Carefully, he wiped away a  
few tears, and was rewarded with a blank stare. He couldn't  
believe he was doing this. He didn't like children. Did he?

"Captain," asked a little girl, perhaps five years old, "why  
did we crash?"

He set the child in his arms on his knee. All the tears had gone  
now; merely curiosity remained. "What's your name?" he asked  
the girl.

"Stacy."

"Stacy, I wish I knew."

He stayed with them for almost an hour, picking up several in  
the process, listening to them talk about "The Big Crash." The  
teacher thanked him profusely at one point, saying that there was  
no way he could have handled them himself in the state they were  
in.

By dribs and drabs, all of the children were claimed, to Picard's  
immense relief. They would need some time with Deanna to  
get over what had happened, but they were young. They'd adjust  
quickly. He'd also found out from the teacher that all the  
children, at least, had been accounted for among the living. When  
he'd heard that, he'd come very close to tears.

When the last child was taken by her grateful parents, it was  
well past dark. Small campfires dotted the surroundings, where  
groups of friends crowded close for warmth of many sorts. He was  
getting cold, and he longed to see his friends. He still had yet  
to see one of the seven faces that he most desperately wanted to  
know was well. Fortunately, the latest reports put the casualty  
list at closer to twenty or less, which was much better than the  
fifty Robin had feared. It also meant there was that less of a  
chance for him to find a friend among the dead. The thought was  
selfish, he knew, but he did not regret it.

He moved through the campsites, waving to those who noticed  
him, smiling quietly at those who didn't. Seeing everyone outside  
the ship like this made him realize just how many people were under  
his command, whose lives were intangibly intertwined with his own.  
They were a small city together aboard one vessel who would glide  
through the stars no more. They were his children, and he had let  
twenty of them die.

Almost by accident, he found what was currently passing for  
Sickbay. Several biobeds had been dragged from the ship and were  
connected by slithering cables to the hull. He did not want to see  
what shape the real Sickbay must have been in for Beverly to be  
desperate enough to bring them outside.

Then again, most of the beds were unoccupied. The living had  
been patched up and sent on their way and the dead were still dead.  
Once the broken bones were healed and the concussions attended to,  
there was really nothing left. As casually as possible, he looked  
to see who was on duty.

Selar.

Damn.

He liked the Vulcan doctor well enough. She had a strange  
charm about her and a cutting wit that belied her heritage. He'd  
even caught her smiling once or twice, although it was a small,  
logical smile, to be certain. If he had met her under different  
circumstances, he would have guessed her to be Romulan. Yet, he  
could not bring himself to ask her where her commander was. If  
anything had happened, he did not want to hear it from her. He  
moved on.

Another campfire. He noticed a large proportion of junior  
officers, mostly ensigns with the occasional lieutenant. They all  
looked like lost puppies, and the analogy made him smile.

Across the campfire, he saw someone moving quietly through the  
crowd. Guinan!

As quickly as he could, he reached her. Without a word, they  
embraced and held each other for a long moment.

"Welcome home, Captain." Her smile, captivating as always,  
was broader than he'd seen in a long time. "I see you managed to  
leave after all."

He nodded. "I had to." Then, impulsively, he kissed her on  
the cheek. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For helping me. In there."

"Jean-Luc, you know that wasn't really me."

He looked at her. She had donned one of the big, somewhat  
floppy hats that she favored, and wore one of her large shifts that  
could hide so much. He remembered one time when she'd hidden a  
laser rifle under her robe. Somehow, it seemed to fit her, the  
quiet exterior holding so much life behind a simple, mocking mask  
that few ever saw through.

"Yes, it was." She inclined her head, then smiled. She moved  
off again into the crowd, never really becoming a part of it. He  
wondered if he was destined to become the same way. Would part of  
him be always in the Nexus, keeping him apart even from those he  
loved? He didn't want to think about that, either.

It really was getting late. Most people were sitting down by  
the fires, some to sleep, some merely to watch the flames and  
wonder what had gone wrong. He looked to see where Guinan had  
gone, but she had disappeared.

He walked further into the campsites, deciding that if he didn't find  
another familiar face soon, he would park himself at the nearest  
fire and die for a few hours.

An ensign, in Security if he recognized the face, scurried  
past him without seeing who he was. In the darkness, it was  
getting hard to tell who was who anyway. He decided to follow her  
and see where she was going in such a rush.

They twisted through various sites, moving a good quarter  
around the ship. He was getting winded, and was ready to believe  
she was simply doing a bizarre workout, when she slowed near one  
fire and stopped. He remained back in the shadows, suddenly  
realizing that he had just followed an ensign around the ship with  
no idea of where she was going or why. Someone stepped close  
enough for him to see. A large someone.

Worf! He nearly ran over to hug the Security Chief, and no doubt  
embarrass the hell out of both of them. He stayed where he was,  
though, and observed as she handed him a PADD and walked, much  
slower, back into the darkness from which she had come. Worf took  
the PADD back towards the fire.

As his eyes adjusted to the light level, he could see faces. Worf punched  
something on the PADD, then announced, "All Security personnel are  
accounted for."

"How many are there?" asked Data from near the flames, where  
he held Spot with one hand while attempting to wire something with  
the other. Spot did not seem inclined to stay put, however, and  
was attempting to wriggle free.

"85, myself included." Picard watched as Worf sat down beside  
the fire. Alexander, already half-wrapped in a blanket, crawled  
over beside him and hugged him.

Now he could make out Will on the other side. He appeared to  
be cooking something. Probably rations. It was fairly well  
established that the Commander was the best cook among the staff,  
and so would be the logical choice as chef for the evening. Still,  
it amused him to watch the Acting Captain attempt to stir-fry  
reconstituted beans.

Data turned his head. "Do we have a final tally for the  
casualties yet?"

"Seventeen," said a tired voice. "Most of them were on Deck  
31 when the hull breached." He could barely see her. She was on  
the other side of the fire beside Will, and she seemed to be  
entering something on a device, probably her tricorder. He  
couldn't see her face, but he could see in the sag of her shoulders  
and the tilt of her head that she was exhausted. He had no doubt  
but that Selar had ordered her away from the makeshift Sickbay.

Geordi stepped in from the near-darkness towards the circle.  
"I've found everyone in Engineering. Finally. Reg was with one of  
the Primary Care groups." Data nodded and smiled. Spot squirmed.

"So what does that bring the tally to?" asked Deanna. He  
couldn't see her at all, but he would know that voice anywhere.

Data looked down at whatever he was working on and did some  
adjustments too rapid to be seen. "996 accounted for, 17 dead, 1  
still missing." The group fell silent as the fire crackled.

Such beautiful, wonderful faces, he thought. He remembered  
one of the many songs Walker had taught him the night the three of  
them had first met, and the words whispered again from times long  
past but never forgotten:

'There's not a word yet  
For old friends who've just met.  
Part heaven, part space,  
Or have I found my place?  
You can just visit,  
But I plan to stay.  
I'm going to go back there someday ... '

"And who might that be?" he asked, as he stepped into the  
firelight. Six heads shot up; Alexander had fallen asleep.

"Sir!"

"Captain!"

"My mistake. 997 accounted for. Sir." Data beamed at him.

Deanna reached him first. "Welcome home, Sir." He hugged her  
quickly, then found himself shaking hands with Geordi, which also  
turned into a hug, then shaking hands with Data and fending off  
Spot. He embraced Will like a brother, decided against hugging  
Worf after all, then lifted the rather heavy and still sleepy  
Alexander into the air.

When he finally set Alex down and had given Spot a scratch on  
the head, he caught Beverly's eyes watching him from behind the  
others. Suddenly he felt very awkward.

"So the Prodigal Captain finally comes home, hm?" Was she  
angry with him? Then he saw the extra moisture in her eyes  
reflected in the firelight, along with the ghosts of wishes past.

The others drew back, suddenly finding things of interest in  
the campfire, or the PADDs strewn around, or in Will's case, the  
quickly burning dinner.

He smiled back. "What? Stay away and miss hearing Will's  
explanation as to exactly what he did to my ship? Never." Then he  
said in a lower voice, "Let's just say that I've grown tired of the  
wandering life."

He wasn't even aware of moving, but suddenly, she was in his arms,  
hugging him tighter than he could ever remember. He hugged her  
back, almost clinging to her for his life.

They could have stood like that, just holding one another, for  
seconds or hours before he realized that they were in front of  
their friends, who already had a somewhat skewed impression of  
their relationship. Besides, any crew members who might be walking  
along would probably find it interesting to see the Captain in an  
embrace with the Chief Medical Officer. The rumor mill would have  
plenty of gristle to chew on if they remained in that position much  
longer, and would no doubt get positively frenzied when he asked  
her to go home to Labarre with him, which he intended to do as soon  
as possible.

He could already hear the gossip starting on the ship's  
grapevine.

Oh well.

VVVVV  
The End

"I'm Going to Go Back There Someday," copyright 1980, Jim Henson  
Productions, is used without permission but with the best of  
intent.


End file.
